From the Ashes
by Yet Another Pseudonym
Summary: Jainia Rand nee Dral, LS Exile, and Atton have joined DSM Revan in the Unknown Regions.  A war of belief isn't always what you believe it to be.
1. A Little Privacy

How long had it been since they'd joined Revan? Months, he thought, though the time seemed to slip by as if it were nothing. She'd been distant, too distant, and he felt her slip away as the days and then the weeks blended into a blur. When had it changed? He remembered how it was _before_ as if it had been a different person who'd lived those memories. Maybe it had been. As the distance grew, she seemed to change herself, though she still was so beautiful and still glowed so much from the light in her that it sometimes hurt his eyes to look her way. When she kissed him now, it was only perfunctory, and when he tried to hold her, she'd stiffen before she'd dissolve into a river of tears. Why had it changed? He only knew that he didn't dare look in the mirror too long, that he didn't dare touch that linked-ring chain he once wore so proudly—the one that marked him as forever _hers_. Yet, despite the distance, he felt stronger, more powerful than he ever had before, and he wanted to use that power to protect her as they confronted the hierarchy of true Sith leadership on world after world here where the darkness gathered its strength.

_I miss you, Jay_. He missed her laugh—for she didn't laugh any longer when he tried to show off his wit. _Revan_ laughed, but she just stared at him with the once-sapphire eyes that had turned amethyst with the tears she held back. He missed her smile—the devil-may-care grin. He missed her company, her own wit. He missed the way they had once crossed words as they had once crossed vibroblades when she used to train him. He missed the happy lilt in her voice when he'd curl up next to her on one of the too-small bunks that still felt just the right size for both of them.

He couldn't yet admit to himself that she had tried to speak to him, to tell him why she grieved. She'd tried once after a particularly grueling fight, mostly grueling because she'd refused to join in. He'd been eager for battle—it had been days since he'd had a chance to swing his lightsaber about. Days of intensive diplomacy with that rust heap translating with too many sarcastic asides about killing and maiming. Revan had snickered more than once as the slagheap spewed more of the swill it called speech into the air, while Jay had glared at the thing as if she wanted to dismantle it then and there. He sat and listened and made his own occasional comment that had Jay glaring at him too. And then, the last day, Revan had sighed mid-translation, as if the endless speaking had done no good at all, and then he struck, both lightsabers out in a flash too quick for his eyes to see.

_Stop!_ she'd yelled. _We're not through talking yet!_

These Sith had drawn wicked poisoned blades that cut through even the toughest Mandalorian-style melee shields Jay had been able to cobble together, and they struck with the dark fury of their kind. Revan felled three of the ten with quick swipes of his twin lightsabers, and he'd joined in the fray with whoop. But she stood back and let them attack, and when the last fell, and he felt his life slipping away from the poisons that ate at his wounds, instead of healing him, she'd just glared at him and let him heal himself. He'd noticed then just how tiring it had become to summon the Force to seal his wounds, where once it had been nothing.

_You murdered those men_, she'd said after, when they'd retired to the cockpit for their ritual pazaak game. Now it was little more than the silent slapping of cards down on the metal deck rather than the mutual flirting and teasing that had once led to wild nights and even happier mornings. _Why, Atton? Why, when we were so close to a breakthrough?_

_Revan needed backup._

_Revan __**needed**__ to keep his sabers sheathed. And he should have fought alone if he was going to be such a murglak! Those men were about to agree to help us! We're here to fight a war of belief, not a war of blades. He's getting darker—can't you feel it? And you… I… I'm worried about you, Atton. You're not the man I married._

_I don't want to talk about it._

_You never do, do you? When will you? When you're as dark as Revan is? When violence is your first instinct when you're faced with a challenge? When you decide one day to strike me down the way the Sith destroy their Masters?_

He'd turned away then, leaving his cards on the floor, and her in a heap beside them, sobbing. He didn't dare let her see that each hitched breath of hers cut him deeper than her own lightsabers could. Before he could force the door behind him to roll with just the right amount of crashing, he heard her say, her voice little more than a gasp, _I love you! Don't leave me—not like this!_

_She_ hadn't been the one to turn away. He could admit that much to himself. She still went through the motions, still tried to talk to him as if nothing had changed. She had still tried to train him before Revan cut their sessions short a month before. _You're no trainer, Jane! You're teaching our Padawan bad habits, and even worse discipline_. And, Force help him, he'd listened to the man, rather than his own wife, his own lover, and his own Master. _And what makes you think you can train anyone properly, schutta? You're almost as dark as you were at Malachor V. Atton isn't your Padawan, nerf herder, and he never will be._

But he'd still trained with Revan the next day, while she watched him from her perch atop the _Hawk's_ workbench, her thoughts nothing but an endless scream she let out unrestrained into the air. He hadn't dared touch her mind after that. And when he trained with Revan, he felt the Force swell within him like an ocean. An ocean that needed to be released in a flood of pure power against a target, otherwise he'd drown in it. It was nothing like training with her, learning how to restrain the urge to let loose with the power that flowed within him like lifewater, laughing with her as she corrected a small flaw in technique even as she let loose with a barrage of warm and sensual thoughts about the shape of his arm or the strength of his chest. He embraced this flooding, much as he'd embraced the loosening of the chains he thought her teachings had wrapped around him. But they weren't chains, he sensed now as she sat with her back to him, staring at the map Revan had brought up on the hold's display. They were landing in a few minutes, and Revan wanted to scout ahead.

"Go," she said. "You probably don't need HK, but you should take him anyway, just in case you come across one of those languages you can't pick up."

"You're not coming with me, Jane?"

"I hope you can handle a little exploration without unleashing your carnage on this new planet."

"And you, Padawan?"

"Atton and I have a little _something_ we need to take care of," she said. "And maybe a little something else…" She looked his way for the first time in hours and she raised her eyebrow in that old way that had once set his heart to slamming. He dared to touch her wide-open mind for the quickest of seconds and caught a faint undertone of her old desire. Well, if that was what she wanted, who was he to argue?

"Yeah, I'm staying on the ship." _Good_, he felt her say.

"Hmph. Whatever happened to Jedi discipline?" Revan's voice had always sounded muffled behind that ugly mask. He hadn't worn it at first when he'd surprised them on board, but after a month or two when he'd started looking especially tired, the mask returned, and now he never took it off, not even to sleep. The man even ate in the fresher to keep his secret!

"You're one to talk, schutta. Now leave us alone!"

He noticed she wore her robes open again with the pair of necklaces that marked her as _his_ on clear display. He'd caught her more than once when she'd claimed she was "meditating" with her whitened hand clutching both pendants as if they'd run away if she dared let go. She followed him to the cockpit and took what he still thought of as her seat in the co-pilot's chair, though she hadn't parked herself there in… days? Weeks? She still hadn't bothered to ask him about learning to pilot, though she'd badgered him to teach her almost everything else he knew. She'd once had a voracious appetite to learn anything and everything about explosives, about stealth, about shooting, about Echani battle techniques, even about the different varieties of juma, though she never tasted any of them.

"What's this about, Jay?"

"I just miss you, that's all."

"You've never been a good liar." He switched a few levers and brought them out of hyperspace just outside the system.

"Maybe not. I have something to teach you that I think will come in handy, if you'll let me." Guarded, just as she always was with him lately. "And I was hoping… It's been so long. Too long… I do miss you, even if you don't trust me or believe me."

He had no way of hiding his own pain this time, though he tried to resume his pazaak game, and though he focused hard on the controls as he brought them in to the landing pad the sensors had picked up. Not trust _her_? _He_ was the one he didn't trust. He wondered again why he bothered with his mental shield—she'd never read him, and he doubted she'd started now, even if there was something she needed to know.

"Have you been reading me? Because you're dead wrong. I trust you with my life as I always have."

"You still think I'd do that? I love you, fool, and I'm not about to start violating you if you don't wish it."

As he thought. The shield was for Revan, who could probably penetrate it as easily as Darth Traya had.

"No, not you."

"Well, at least you still give me _that_ much credit."

"Jay…"

"I'm not going to fight with you. Today isn't about fighting—it's about remembering and _seeing_. And maybe about a Force technique I should have taught you a long time ago."

She was going to teach him a new power? Hunh. He'd wondered why she hadn't yet challenged Revan to a sparring match. Or a duel. Had he been in her shoes, he would have. And he knew she'd probably wipe the floor with Revan if they fought—it wasn't without reason that he'd heard Darth Traya say in her memory, _You are the greatest I've ever trained_. Well, he was all about growing in power these days, so he just tried to give her his old smile. It seemed to work, for she didn't recoil.

"All right—teach away, Master." That, at least, brought a flash of her old grin back and he tried to hold on to the warmth and the sudden familiarity he thought they'd lost forever.

She reached across the bank of instruments that separated them, and for a moment her hand lingered in his hair. His _black_ hair—one of the changes he hadn't foreseen when he started training with Revan. Did he dare to touch her mind again? Yes. _So soft, still. So warm…_ These were exactly the sorts of thoughts he wasn't expecting though he'd expected the keening wail that tinged those thoughts and made them razor sharp. _Ah, Jay…_ She sat with him in silence, though it wasn't the strained silence he'd grown used to after he started training with Revan. There was a hint of the old comfort, and the old _understanding_ that used to come when they'd just curl up together and feel each other's breathing as the tin can droid piloted them off into the unknown. He missed that kind of silence, just as he missed her warmth, though, if the zakkeg's words had been right two years ago, she still meditated beside his bunk as she had after they'd left Nar Shaddaa.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "I never should have allowed you to come with me. I should have lied more, should have let myself fall… Whatever it is that happened to us is all my fault."

"I told you once, Jay, don't ever think of apologizing to me about anything ever again. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I do, though. I failed myself, and I failed you most of all."

They landed softly, without even a small jolt. He had to give himself a little credit—few pilots could land a ship without even a faint shimmy. She gave him a sudden grin.

"Well done, flyboy! I wish Kreia was here just to see that landing!"

"Well, I don't."

"Even if she had to eat her words?"

"Even then."

She snickered, and for a moment it did feel just as it used to. "I wonder how long it'll take that damned schutta to leave? Get the hell off our ship, mynock spew!"

_Our_ ship? What was she planning? For a moment, he hoped she'd slam the ramp shut after Revan and the slagheap left and they'd take off again to return to Republic space. Did he dare break away? If she asked it. But only if she asked it, and only if she really meant it. Some clanking of droid feet, and they were gone. She did raise the ramp after they left and locked it for good measure, but when he touched her thoughts again, all he heard was, _Finally, some privacy at last!_ Except for the little wheeled trash compactor. But he was better company than that orange junkpile.


	2. Realization

She took his hand for the first time in, well, he really didn't know how long, and her hands felt every bit as warm and _fitting_ as they always had. "Come, sit with me." She led him to the starboard dormitories, which they'd claimed as theirs not long after she finally admitted she loved him. She sat beside him on _their_ bunk and laid her head on his shoulder for just a moment.

"What did you want to show me?"

"You just had to spoil the moment, didn't you?"

"So, you're planning on showing me your underwear, then?"

"Only if you learn your lessons well, flyboy."

"Only your underwear?"

"Well, you might see what's underneath if you're _very_ good." There was that grin again, and not the slightest bit of hesitation this time. He wondered what she saw now when she looked at him.

He didn't have much time to think before her hands were in his hair again, and her lips brushed his; before something much stronger than the old wanting took over and he slammed her onto the mattress. She stared at him, those eyes suddenly frightened as he shredded her robes at the seams and turned her tanksuit into ragged ribbons. He wanted… It was more than desire—it was need, and he threw off his own jacket and unbuckled his pants in a single fast motion. Force, she was beautiful. And she was _his_. She'd always be his. It was time to show her just how much his she was. She drew in a ragged breath before he pounced on one dusky rose nipple and chewed away on it, remembering just how it had felt in his mouth the first time he'd ever seen her completely nude on Citadel. She cried out, and once, he might have known whether it was in pleasure or pain. But now, her cries energized him and he stabbed his way into her without stopping to feel whether she was ready. Next, he found her lobe as he pistoned in and out of her and he didn't hear her groan. Instead, he felt her heat on him and he _had_ her just as he'd wanted to for so long… He devoured her as he'd wanted to for months and as he invaded her, he felt like he was a conquering hero. He thought of nothing other than the suddenly still woman beneath him, and that brought him to a stop just as he was about to let go of all the desire he'd kept pent up. _Still_? _Motionless_. That wasn't like her at all.

He looked down and she looked away from him just as the other, his last Jedi, had. She'd broken out in red spots all over her body. No, not red spots—they bore the marks of teeth and her lips had split at the corners, leaking a small rill of blood into her open mouth. She said nothing as he gasped, and every bit of desire fell away from him as the horror took over. She didn't just bleed from her mouth, and her wrists bore deep red finger-shaped indentations that he knew she'd be wearing as black and blue bracelets in a day if she didn't heal herself. And suddenly, he felt the caffa he'd slammed down that morning before Revan forced him to spar return like acid to his throat. Not just the caffa, but breakfast. And not just breakfast, but dinner from the night before, and a sudden rush of tears. He shut himself in the fresher while she bled and lay silent and when he was through heaving, he stared at himself long and hard in the mirror.

_Power_. Was it all he craved? Was it worth what he saw? Or what he left behind on the bunk? He looked worse than he had that morning when he'd dared look at himself for the first time in days. Older. Grey. And the veins…

"Atton." She wasn't weeping as his last Jedi had. "Open up—come on!"

He couldn't face her. He couldn't look either. He stood slack jawed as she banged on the door.

"Please, Atton." Her voice broke. He reached out for her thoughts and felt nothing but compassion. She knew his reaction, then. And he didn't deserve it, any more than he deserved power or than he deserved _life_.

"I'm going to sit here until you open the damned door, even if it takes months. So you can either make it fast or slow, but I'll be here either way." No anger in that voice, even if he wanted her to rage at him, to blame him for wounding her. It was that same inhuman calm air she'd had as she'd listened to his first confession on Nar Shaddaa.

He stood there panting, the breath hissing in and out of him like knives. And then he mustered what little courage he had left and cracked the door open. She stood, still nude, still marked, and almost unbearably beautiful as she turned to face him. She said nothing, but held out a single unflinching hand.

"Why are you still here?" he managed, though he didn't have the courage just yet to take her offering.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Why, Jay? Why, when I can't do anything but hurt you?"

"I don't take vows lightly. Now, are you coming with me, or are you going to spend the rest of the day in the fresher acting like an idiot until that damned schutta returns?"

"…in the fresher."

"You still have a little Force trick to learn, and you're making it awfully hard for me to teach you. I mean, I could try to teach you through the door, but I'm no Jedi Master, so I'll probably fail miserably. Imagine Kreia laughing at me. Or Vrook. Or Kavar. I don't think I could stand the humiliation if Revan joined in the mocking fun."

He let the Force flow through him to heal her, but ended up gasping when he felt himself drained with that pathetic effort. If he was going to see her, he couldn't bear to face the marks he'd left on her. And then, almost despite himself, he burst out laughing. He'd fallen far, too far, to deserve her little joke. He opened the door and reached for that hand that still waited for his. Strange to feel that lift when she grabbed first his hand and then him about the waist. He'd forgotten that quiet strength she'd leant him since he'd first met her.

"Sit," she said, and he knew that, somehow, she'd even forgiven him his attack. "I'm going to show you what I should have showed you a long time ago. Remember when I showed you that vision I had in the tomb, and that power Visas taught me?"

He nodded. He knew what he'd see when he'd look at her through the Force—the bright blue he'd once shared with her.

"You need it now, more than ever. Close your eyes and listen to the rhythm of my heart." Slow, steady, just as she was. "Now, listen to the breath as it moves in and out of me."

He felt it, as he felt her, warm, and almost aggressively bristling with light. "Do you feel the texture behind their union? Hold it, for a moment, and then take a step back. What do you feel? What do you see?"

Yes, it was the blue. Blue contained in those heavenly curves he'd just about destroyed with his need. He let it drift over him as the water and the air of Telos had. He felt it in him, and he remembered, if only for a moment, how it was to be that himself. And then it faded, and he was sitting on hard, cold metal with a shivering, naked beauty next to him.

"Good. Try once more." This time, it came more easily, and he held the image just a bit longer.

"Again, and this time, look at your hand."

Why? He knew what he was going to see. But he still summoned this new power once more, and stared at the redness before him. He wasn't quite what she or Revan had been in that vision, but he wasn't just pale pink either. He was further gone than he'd thought, and his heart froze as he realized just how wrong he'd been in keeping the truth from himself.

"I… Jay…"

"I know. But now that you see the truth of what you've become, we can change it. It's never too late to change your ways."

"I hurt you…"

"Nothing permanent. You needed to see what you've become. And now that you see it, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I don't know how to give up the power I've gained. And Revan…"

"We can handle Revan, but we have to stay together. It won't be easy, but you've turned yourself back from the dark side once before. You can do it again."

"I'm not strong enough to keep the power contained. Why? Why do you still care?"

She stood and then sat right by him, her heat almost torment as he felt it against his arm. And then her arms were around him, and her lips pressed against his bared chest. "Maybe because I love you. Maybe because the man you've locked deep inside you is one of the sweetest, most caring men I've ever met. Maybe I just want the company. Maybe I want someone I can joke around with. Maybe I want you to figure out the reason."

"I wanted to be strong enough to protect you."

"From what?"

"From Revan. From these Sith."

"And so you turned to Revan… You _are_ a fool! I think we should take the _Hawk_ back to Coruscant right now—and damn the galaxy, damn the Republic, damn everything except ourselves. That schutta can find his own ship and do his own dirty work with that damned droid at his side."

_And I know you'd never do that…_ "I'm an idiot, all right. Just when I thought good 'ole Jaq Attarand was gone forever…"

She looked at him and then she gave him that grin once more. "So, after a good three years of knowing you, I finally find out the name you left behind."

"I left 'Atton' behind."

"I think 'Atton' is sitting with me right now, for the first time in at least a month."

"Maybe… if he isn't gone forever."

"Just remember, I'm Jainia Rand, not Jainia Attarand, and I never will be. You are who you want to be. Do you want to be this 'Jaq?'"

No, he didn't, not really, not when sitting and talking as they once had felt so _right_. "What do I do to bring 'Atton' back?"

"Well, first, you're going to finish taking off those clothes. I mean, you hanging out of your pants like that is kind of a unique look, but…"


	3. First Steps

She still wanted him? When he looked like… well, he didn't know what he looked like, exactly. But it wasn't pretty. He hesitated but she jumped in with the zeal he used to know so well. She slid them off him with a flourish and gave him a wicked grin that set his heart to slamming once again. He felt the violence swirling in him, the urge to let loose with his power, but against what, he didn't know. He hated this _doubled_ feeling, this feeling of being out of control, but ever so in tune with her breath and her smile, and he knew as he looked into those eyes that stared right back at him, but with warmth and, dared he even think it?, love, that he wouldn't lose control again. In fact, he lay back and let her do the work, not that she had to work much to remind him of what he hadn't let himself feel for months. She brought his hands to her breasts, set her lips upon his in a flutter, and he really did remember this time how it was the night he'd proposed to her. She'd told him her little fantasy of being kidnapped and taken aboard "a sexy scoundrel's pleasure yacht" as a slave, so he'd humored her, had blindfolded her and tied her hands loosely with a soft strip of cloth he'd ripped from one of the sheets. And then, after he'd taken her for a wild ride on a speeder, her breath coming in and out of her like an animal in heat, he caught himself choking back regrets as he lost himself inside her. And he'd wept when he untied her, not that she couldn't have freed herself with a small motion if she'd really wanted to.

_What's wrong?_ she'd asked, but when he said nothing, she seemed to know. _Atton, just let it all out. Free it. Let it come out into the open where we can destroy it forever._

When she'd held him then, and in the loving that followed, he thought he'd destroyed Jaq forever. _Shows how stupid I was… and am_. He held the power back, calling on techniques she'd taught him when she first began to train him years ago, and he just let her heat and her breath and her lips and hands and folds think for him, until she brought him back over the edge, and deep into the self he had been once again. No, she hadn't set chains on him at all—she'd taught him how to keep himself in control of his power. Why hadn't he realized that? Why hadn't he noticed that the power had been controlling him instead?

"You see it, don't you?" she asked when he collapsed on top of her. "You're seeing the lie the Sith tell you—that freedom comes from freeing yourself from all controls. But the Force doesn't work that way. The dark side takes hold of you and, even as it gives you the illusion of freedom, it destroys you and your will. You become a slave to it."

But… "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Sooner? You never listened to me when Revan was around, and I've been waiting and hoping we'd finally get a chance for a little peace."

"And you cut yourself off…" He hadn't felt their _other_ bond in so long, he'd forgotten how that gentle glowing had felt. He didn't feel quite so _alone_ now that it was back.

"The bond works two ways. _Listen_."

And he felt what she had as he'd slipped further and further away. He felt Revan's own freefall down farther into the darkness through the faint bond that those two still shared, though it was a bond of opposites. What she did, he hated, and what he did, she resisted. The more kindness she tried to spread, the deeper he plunged. _The reverse of our bond—and it's just like that strange bond I have with HK._ Bonding with a droid? Hunh. _Well, the one I have with T3 is more like the one I have with you… _He felt the pull of the darkness that resonated deep inside her. _It could be so easy to fall. To join him._ But she forced herself back, harder than she had at Malachor. _If I keep close, I'll fall, and who will bring him back? Not that damned schutta_. She severed it just enough that she could keep it under control, held back her love until she'd have a chance to… He felt her own loneliness, a deep wound inside her that had only begun to stop bleeding now that he was with her again.

She did love him. More than he deserved, and more than maybe he could love her right then. But not as much as he'd loved her before Revan had destroyed everything. And not as much as he could love her again if she could help him.

"I know," she said.

"So, what now?" He didn't have the faintest clue how you could gain control, though he didn't feel the urgency boiling in him with as much ferocity as it had.

"Now, we shower, and then, we practice."

"Practice what?"

"Some of the early exercises I taught you about control. And then, we help T3—that poor little droid hasn't had maintenance in months as crazy as things have been." The trash compactor. Great.

She must have seen his scowl because she grinned, this time with pure evil, or as much evil as a glowingly beautiful, smiling, warm Jedi could muster. "Anyone in need deserves our help, if we can give it. And if your scans were right, I saw a lot of opportunities to help many 'anyones' tomorrow. Remember those slaves on Thoz?"

He remembered, and he also remembered how Revan had treated them with contempt, while she'd insisted on pitching in, helping them haul bundles of fiber-grasses, so the droid supervisors wouldn't unleash their weapons upon them. Well, if hauling grass with her all day would help heal the rift between them, and maybe heal him a little, he thought he could swallow his pride for a few hours, anyway.

"Then what?"

"Then you stay with me. Never allow yourself to be alone with him. Never. Not for even a single second. I'll protect you as best I can, but there's only so much I can do."

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"Do you honestly think I can? I've been walking a vibroblade's edge here, trying to keep to the light, when everything around is nothing but darkness. The Force, here, and everywhere in this damned region of space, is bitter and corrupt. Revan knows it, and he's been pushing. Hard. He's been using you, love."

"Yeah? Everyone uses everyone else."

"You think I've used you?" And this time, though he'd maimed her flesh before, he saw he'd truly hurt her. "You've been Revan's plaything. Sure, he likes to have a strong, young Jedi like you to manipulate and to treat as a tool, but he's really been using you to try to break me. If I face him, I fall, and he has another tool in his box. It's his way, Atton. It's been his way since the Mandalorian Wars. You heard what Kreia said about treating our friends as tools—and she said it again to me later and added, 'It was Revan's way.' Truer words have never been spoken."

No, she hadn't used him. Instead, she'd bolstered him, sharpened him, and honed him into… into a weapon for Revan to corrupt. He felt a hint of rage at that, and blamed her for a moment, but then something resembling sanity returned. He'd allowed himself to be corrupted, and had embraced it just as eagerly as he'd taken in Revan's training.

"And, one more thing: you have to stop using the Force outside our training sessions until I tell you it's safe. Well, beyond the _seeing_ I just taught you. You should use that regularly. Especially with Revan around."

Stop using the Force? Had she lost every last bit of sanity? And he thought he was the one who had slipped into madness. The power in him boiled and pushed at his limited barriers until it was all he could do to keep it contained. And, Force help him, he wanted to use it against _her_ for her insult.

"Use the sight," she said quietly. "See with Force for a moment." So she felt it as well?

Whatever that power was, just unleashing it satisfied the roiling for a brief moment. And her blue soothed his eyes in ways the light that emanated from her could not, though she hurt his eyes just a little bit less than when he'd taken her like she was nothing. He dared to look at his arm again. A little fainter. Not much, but enough that it quieted the fury in him.

"Why?"

"You feel the Force in you, don't you? Seeing hurts nothing, but using your power for anything else could make you fall further. You have to find a way to control it once more, so it can't control you. We have to stop the damage it's doing to you before you can begin to heal. I see it's eased in you just enough for now." She shivered, and he felt his old protectiveness return. He wouldn't let her suffer, not even a momentary bit of cold.


	4. An Open Book

"Come on," he said and lifted her in his arms. "You're not going to freeze while I'm around."

He lay her gently on top of the hard mattress. _Their_ hard mattress. Maybe it really was theirs once more. He drew the thin blanket and sheet on top of her before he curled in next to her and remembered how it was to share this space that barely fit one. She gave him one of her sweeter smiles, one that didn't have even the faintest hint of mischief, and then her hands went roaming all over his chest, his back, his cheeks, both facial and lower. There was no hesitation at all this time in her touch, or in his own answering smile. He felt… Well, quiet. Almost peaceful, almost as if the turmoil in him was nothing more than his imagination. It was her gift, he knew, the one that the Jedi Council had feared more than anything. But he didn't. He let it flow over him, and he relaxed into it, almost as if he'd never fallen, never lost control of himself or his power.

"I missed you too, Jay."

"Then you'd damned well better make sure you don't leave again, right?"

"I think I can do that." He let his own hands wander and reacquaint themselves with the sweep of her buttock, the softness of her ever-moving hair, the curve of her calf as her leg settled over his hip in that old, still-familiar way.

"You _think_ you can do that?" Now, finally, there was an edge in her voice, and she knitted those arched brows while she glared at him.

"Just a joke."

"Well, it wasn't funny. Not now, anyway. Maybe later, if you're willing to give us a later." He touched her mind and flinched back when he felt the depths of this new wound in her. The wound he'd opened as surely as if he'd cut her with a vibroblade.

"I'm here, Jay."

"Until you decide to run away again…" Ouch.

_I deserved that… and more…_ "How can I get you to trust me again? Tell me."

"Just be here and _stay_. No more running, no more avoiding what you did. Time…"

There was one thing he could do… "Listen to me, Jay. Probe me. Dig as deep as Kreia and Revan did." He dropped the pazaak game, and did his best to keep the new hyperspace routes he'd learned in their explorations from scrolling through his mind.

"I'm not going to do that to you. I'd rather you tell me yourself."

"I want you to know all of it. Everything."

"Then show me. I'm not taking that knowledge from you." She stared at him as he shuddered and then her arms snaked about him. She pressed her lips against his before she closed her eyes. A single tear leaked out the corner of her left eye and fell onto his arm beneath her. He didn't have to touch her thoughts to know just how much he'd hurt her, and he didn't have the strength to try to reassure her.

He steeled himself, and then he tried to do the opposite of everything he'd trained himself to do during the Jedi Civil War. He turned his mind to hers, and he let go with every single one of his memories, from childhood taunts to the deaths of his family to his stint in the Republic Army to his time as an assassin to _her_ to his time on Nar Shaddaa to Peragus to his moments with Jay… And if he allowed himself to think on it, those had been the best of his life. And he'd nearly ended them… He let her feel everything he'd ever experienced—the loss, the violence, the rage, and most of all, the despair at what he'd let himself become more than once. He felt her flinch as she took the full brunt of everything that was Jaq and Atton, and he felt her breath stop and then start again as the onslaught continued. If she survived _him_, Revan would be no problem.

"Atton," she said when he finished, and instead of speaking more, she wrapped herself all the closer around him and locked her lips to his instead. And she didn't let go until both of them gasped for breath.

As usual, though, her mind focused on something unexpected. He'd gotten to know that part of her too well, but what she chose to say after her mind darted about always took him aback.

"So that's why you didn't leave the ship on Dxun… I'd always wondered about that—with T3 and Bao on board, why would you be the one fixing the ship? Why would Kreia…?" And then she stiffened. "Kavar. She didn't want me to have any comfort at all when I faced him the first time. Damn her! She did everything she could to keep you away, didn't she?"

Well, at least this time he could laugh. She'd picked the single strangest thing she could find, ignoring every single horrible thing he'd done, and she'd found a puzzle in it. Typical Jay. He remembered how much he'd loved her, and the feelings he'd let slip away came flooding back so fast he thought he'd drown. She'd said all she had to about what he'd done when she'd kissed him. She could be cryptic in her own way, though she still said what she needed to. Also typical Jay.

She stared at him, that wound in her screaming from her eyes. And then her lips twitched their way into a huge grin. "Didn't I tell you that I love your nose?"

"And I love everything about you, no matter how cryptic and downright bizarre you can be." She stared at him again as if she couldn't quite believe what he'd just said.

"Bizarre? I'm not the one whose hair changed color." But she seemed to hum with her old contentment; he realized that her suspicion had dwindled to nothing, and that she actually _trusted _that he was telling the truth. That he could still tell the truth.

And he couldn't understand why she still cared, or why she still wanted him. He'd forgotten to start the pazaak game again, and he realized perhaps a bit too late that he'd openly broadcast that thought. Of course she'd heard it! Damn.

"Because, idiot, I do. You could grow a third arm out of your forehead, and I'd still want you." Underneath her silly words was her thought, _It doesn't matter if the signs of your change never leave you, though I think they will soon enough if you change your actions. You're still Atton, the unbearably sexy scoundrel I met on Peragus. And your eyes… They're back…_

"What about a third leg?"

She actually giggled at that. He'd forgotten just how free her laugh made him feel. "That might be a bit too much, but I'd have to see it first before I could really say yea or nay."

And beyond that, he wondered why she just _accepted_ everything, and then staked her own soul on saving him. Again. Why?

"Because I love you. And I know you'd do the same for me if I was in your shoes."

Would he? Yeah, he would. Even now. Even with the Force boiling away inside him like some insane witch's chemical brew or those crazy concoctions blondie had once conjured in the _Hawk_'s medbay. Hah! He hadn't thought of blondie and the others in a long time, though perhaps he should have. It was definitely better than thinking of Revan and what awaited him when "that damned schutta" returned. He was sure it wouldn't be pretty. Even less pretty than his face.

"Shhh…" She put a finger to his lips, though, really, his thoughts hadn't made a sound.

This time he was the one who began the kiss, and this time he didn't need to try to control himself—enough of "Atton" was back that he could just relax into the soft parting of her lips, and the flickering of her tongue against his as she explored him. This slipping wasn't the same out-of-control drifting that he'd done away from her as he slid back into what he remembered of himself and of everything soft about her. She didn't blind him any longer when he opened his eyes to meet hers, or maybe she hadn't for a little while now. The glow suited her, seemed to emphasize everything soft but strong in her. She'd had to be for everything he'd put her through. She gave way beneath him, and seemed to melt about him and into every part of him. And for a few minutes, as they merged once more, he glowed with her. She lay with him after, silent, but saying everything that he'd buried deep in his heart for far too long.

"I wish we could stay here all day," he said, finally ready to break the quiet.

"Maybe we should." That was the last thing he was expecting from her.

"Hunh? Didn't you have to train me?"

"_See_ for a moment. This lying here seems to have done you a little good."

He wasn't red. More of a deep rose, shading faintly toward grey. Hunh?

"And it's done me more good than I could have ever hoped." She brushed a hank of hair out of his eyes and smiled at him again. "Thank you."

What? But she answered his question before he could find the words. "You finally saw and admitted the truth, and you've agreed to change. I know you haven't actually _said_ you agreed just yet, but I feel it in you. And I know you'll do whatever it takes."

"You seem to know an awful lot for a Jedi."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. What makes you think I agree to anything?"

"It's written all over your face, and there's that smile again that I missed so much… That, and you're broadcasting it all over the ship. If you don't want me reading you, you're going to have to control your thoughts a little better."

"Did I ever _say_ I didn't want you reading me? I gave you an open invitation, if you remember."


	5. Gifts

He didn't wait for her to grin before he parted her legs, but softly, in full control, well in full control of the Force in him for a few minutes. He wasn't so in control of his desire, and there was something in the way they curved to protect her soft folds that drove him mad. He hadn't tasted her in—well, he didn't know how long, actually—and the sudden urge in him to please her caught him by surprise. He hadn't cared about pleasing anyone, even himself, for a long, long time. He remembered her words to Canderous, _You can't love when the dark side takes hold of you_, and he had to agree. He'd slipped too far before she'd started to bring him back to remember how it was to want to give. And if there was anything he'd never been able to do enough of before he fell, it was giving her anything close to what she'd given him. She tasted exactly as he remembered, a little sharp, tangy, with just the barest hint of warm musk. Her springy honey curls tickled his nose and her moans tickled his ears, until she built into a squirming, screaming, pulsing crescendo that nearly shattered his ears, though it warmed his heart, and the rest of him.

She panted and squeaked as he settled himself back against her. She lay silent in his arms once the last of the pulses left her drained, but silent and _smiling_, that air of contentment that she used to have around him back as if it had never left. He cupped one breast in his hand, while his other arm cradled her neck, his hand lost in her hair. She sighed once and nuzzled the crook of his neck, and the easy familiarity of the gesture shocked him—she acted almost as if he hadn't left her stranded for months. Stranded and _alone_, he realized. Alone with a husband who had fallen to the dark side, alone with an evil assassin droid, and alone with a former Sith who wasn't so former any longer. Alone in a part of the galaxy where she was the only light to be found. He used to think the two of them could take on the entire galaxy, but he hadn't been a part of the two of them for so long that trying to think back over the distance felt like knives in his heart.

"Jay, I'm sorry. So sorry… I never meant to leave you alone like this."

He truly hadn't—his fall began almost a year before on some horrid backwater planet that still was home to the most powerful Sith necromancer they'd yet met. And yet, the man (if you could call a half-breed Sith a man) had been almost cooperative, communicating directly with Jay through some strange form of telepathy. He'd been close to agreeing to aid them when six droids surrounded the lot of them, perhaps at the Sith's request, though they'd never found out for sure. Revan had drawn his lightsaber, and that had been enough to make the necromancer flinch and then attack Jay before she could tell him to put it away. She'd dodged, but not enough to avoid taking a hit of lightning to the heart. He felt her own thoughts, images, trying to convince the Sith to reconsider. But nothing worked, and the necromancer had her staggering before she could defend herself. And then she was down—the first time he'd ever seen her fall in battle—before he could throw himself in front of her to take the blast. And that had been it—he'd shed every last bit of his control and invited the tainted Force deep inside him, then blasted it out of him in a devastating wave that even Jay couldn't duplicate if she tried. And when the necromancer was dead, he vented every last bit of his rage slashing the man's corpse to bits. She'd come back slowly, but when she did, she stared at both of them and shook her head before she shouted at Revan, _Damn you, you murglak! None of this had to happen!_ She'd calmly removed the solari crystal from one of his lightsabers later that evening and replaced it with another powerful crystal, for when he'd tried to power it on, a shock had run up his arm that made him drop the thing. Her eyes had spoken her pain, though she hadn't said a word.

"I know."

He felt lighter after he'd finally apologized, not that mere words could ever fix the damage he'd done to both of them. It was the very least that he owed her. "We should shower."

"Maybe."

But she made no attempt to move. Hell, it wasn't so bad just staying here, though his back had begun to cramp the way he'd had to contort himself to fit the bunk. She climbed over him, and at first, when she straddled him, he'd thought she might… Not that he had any more energy for it—all of the sudden shifts in feeling, all of the times he'd let loose with his pent-up frustration had left him more spent than even a long bout of combat. She just grinned as she shifted over the side of the bunk and stood by him.

"Where are you going?"

"Stay put, just for a moment. I'll be right back."

Right back? When she stepped away, that aura left him just a little and the Force boiled inside him again, though with a bit less ferocity. _That Force sight thing… right…_ She dug around in her footlocker for just a second, and took out a badly-wrinkled scrap of fabric he hadn't seen in… well, a year. Even with the doors to the dormitory locked, she hated to wear anything too revealing once Revan had joined them. Even as creased as it was, it still hugged her beautifully and set her ablaze in his mind—a slice of pure sky. She grinned as he stared, his mouth slack. He touched her mind, but she'd started a pazaak game of her own. What was she up to?

And it took forever for him to find out—though he'd managed to keep much of himself under control while she was gone, he still twitched when he heard a chorus of unintelligible beeps from around the ship and her voice, muffled with distance.

"It's there, T3? Thanks."

Beep. Deet. Dee-deet. Or something. He could make out the droid's speech if he was close to it, but across the ship?

"Yes, I'm fine. I think everything's going to work out."

Dee. Breet. Vreet-dee-breep.

"I know—I'm sorry. We'll get to work on you soon, I promise."

Vreet. Dee. Deet.

"No, I don't think Revan will be too happy. But you know what? I don't care. I'm sick of catering to that schutta's whims."

More beeps, further away. Medbay? Shuffling and scraping, and the sound of mixing, if he listened hard enough.

"Yeah, I think it'll come to that too. But I'm not Mandalore, and I can't be broken as easily."

Beep. Muffled. Beep.

"I know, but I don't want you getting hurt, T3. If it does come to that, I want you to stay back. I won't hurt him, but I might just be tempted to break him myself. No, not breaking, exactly. But maybe… No, it's probably too much to hope."

A long chorus of concerned beeps. Huh. Maybe the droid was ok. Not like that damned assassin droid. Especially not now—it had gotten more violent, if anything, since the first time he'd had the misfortune of encountering that thing when they'd both been sent after the same target during the Jedi Civil War.

"You don't have to apologize, T3. I knew what I was getting into when you showed me Bastila's message. We'll be all right, I promise, and he won't hurt you, even if I have to hurt him."

Revan? Of course they were talking about Revan. Who else? He wondered how he was going to fare in the pending showdown, because he knew Revan wouldn't just sit idly by while his hated "Jane" stole "the Padawan." He swore then that he wouldn't give in to the man's undeniable _authority_, even if resistance might be beyond him. Why had he surrendered in the first place, anyway? The Sith teachings had sunk their claws deeper into him than he'd thought. It seemed almost reflex, the way the Echani forms had embedded themselves into him. Force, he was an idiot! And a nerf—not even a herder!

And then she was back with a small vial of something. What? It had a faintly sweet odor that tickled his nostrils. He didn't care much about the vial when she stood in front of him wearing little more than that scrap of silk and a huge smile. _What_?

"Turn over on your stomach," she said, and he grinned at the command in her voice. He hadn't heard that tone from her in a long time—since the last time she'd decided she was taking control in some cantina-backroom on their first Sith planet. When they were still looking for Revan.

"Yes, ma'am!" He couldn't wait to comply.

She pulled the blankets back and he winced at the chill. Damn Revan and his stupid fuel conservation! They had enough Sith equivalents of credits to keep the ship a decent living temperature. She sat beside him and he winced a little more when a few drops of something landed on his lower back. But it warmed quickly when her hands took over, smoothing it in small circles into his spine. Ahhh… That felt _good_. She worked the kinks out of him with an almost expert touch—did they really train Jedi in the sensual arts?—and then moved to his shoulders. Or at least her hands did, because he felt soft nibbling on the back of his neck and then a soft, wet flicking against the back of his ear.

"Sorry if this isn't quite as smooth as the stuff we used to be able to find in Republic space… I wanted something a little more minty, but this was the best I could scrounge."

Did she really always have to apologize?

"Can it, Jay. No more saying 'sorry,' got it? I mean, here I just attacked you, and you're the one apologizing to me after forgiving me, helping me, and now pampering me. I don't get you."

"Well… I sort of, ehm, _knew_ you were going to attack me. I had a vision—not a pretty vision, but a vision nonetheless. And I knew it was a turning point one way or the other. I'm sorry it had to come to this…"

Huh. Visions. Crazy Jedi! He wondered why he hadn't had any yet. "And if it had gone the other way?"

"Then I was ready to put you in stasis until you came back to your senses or we were back in Republic space." He flipped over and then swore under his breath when he remembered the mattress. Damn! Now they'd be sleeping in oil… But that lent itself to some interesting possibilities. Hm.

"Always a plan B."

"How else do you think I survived my time in exile? The places I went weren't exactly havens of civilization." She grinned at him and when he pushed himself up on his elbows, she leaned in and took his lips in hers. "Now, sit back."

Why? She didn't have to ask twice, though, especially when she dribbled just a bit of oil onto his chest. He still didn't understand why she was so eager to treat him better than he'd treated her. Then it hit him—to shame him! To make him hate himself more! The power threatened to burst free of his control once again.

"No, Atton." The voice, quiet. Hurt. No, more than hurt; dripping with agony. "You need to relax, to let the violence ease in you, and I thought this would help. That, and I miss touching you… and even more selfish than that, it feels good to be able to give to you again. _See_ for a moment. Let it go."

He touched her mind as he let the Force loose again to see. Better… And there was no lie in what she said. Damn! "I'm sorry, Jay."

"Shh. You're fragile now. Volatile… Just remember, I'm here, and I'm not leaving—unless you want me to."

Why would he want that? He'd never wanted her to leave, even if he'd left her. The dark side was insidious that way, he realized—it let everything he held most sacred slip away into nothing. He had to remember…

"Just relax." He touched her mind again and marveled at her strength. He didn't think he could bear hearing the kinds of accusations he'd been making if he'd been in her shoes—it might well have killed him or made him… No, he could never hate her, no matter what she said to him, even if he had… for just a flash… "And there's something else we have to work on."

"What?"

"You have to forgive yourself. That self-loathing you have inside you is a weakness for Revan and all the rest to exploit, and here, where everything carries at least the hint of taint, it can be lethal."

She stroked him and worked out kinks he didn't know he had in his arms and his legs while he tried to keep himself focused on the motions of her hands and the warmth they spread all over him. If he focused, her movements were almost like a meditation. Maybe he'd have to join her more often when she took an hour or two to listen…

"Where did you learn to do this, anyway? Did they have special classes at the Jedi Academy or something?"

"If the Jedi Masters knew just how I learned, I don't think they would have been so eager to 'accept' me when I returned." Hah! The Jedi Masters "accepting" her—what a laugh! It felt good to hear a hint of her old wryness; he'd missed that subtle quirk of hers.

"Ok, now I have to hear this story."

"Well, I was on a frontier world with no credits at all to my name, and since it was a frontier world, there weren't really that many droids to repair, and far too many mechanics. So I did what any woman has to do to eat when you're hugely outnumbered by sex-starved men."

What? Huh. Who would have figured this woman would do _that_? She didn't seem experienced enough.

"No! Not that, you idiot! I did a little dancing, and a couple of Twi'leks taught me the art of massage. I was the most popular woman at the cantina, for some reason. Luckily, as it turns out, because I'd gotten heartily sick of manipulating the flesh of hairy brutes. After a couple of months I had enough credits to go somewhere a little less barbaric."

No wonder she hadn't had much of a problem dancing for that Hutt, then. "You're something, Jay. Just when I think I'm starting to get you, you go and tell me that you're Massage Queen of Backwaterworld."

"And Agriplanet—don't forget that."

"Where's that? Wherever it is, I don't think they get too many beautiful Jedi."

She flushed a flattering shade of crimson. "I can't even remember the name of that place, but it reminded me a little of Dantooine, so I spent a few months there. The brutes there weren't quite as hairy, and I was a little homesick."

Alone. He hadn't thought much of what it might have been like for her to be in exile, but if he imagined—yes, he could still imagine-, he figured it couldn't be that different from being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with only a droid for company while her human companions decided to turn away from her. Well, maybe not. At least in exile, she hadn't been betrayed by one she loved. And she wasn't under constant psychological assault by a psychotic ex-Sith. He had to marvel at her, though. Masseuse, demolitions expert, slicer, mechanic, and dancer, who could still work her way around locks like the most devious of thieves; she was something, even without the Force. And that was what he knew about her—she probably had a huge array of skills she hadn't shown him just yet. He wished he'd appreciated her a bit more on Peragus and Telos—he'd thought her fragile then, though she'd proved to be anything but, even though the Force had been only slowly returning to her.


	6. Grease

How long had it been since they'd showered together? Forever. He'd never been too much of a fan of sonic showers, and if the zakkeg, who he hadn't thought of in a year or two, had been right, you could smell his dislike. They didn't have the proper touch of luxury to them, and they were over too quickly to have a purpose. All the same, Jay had managed to make them something of an art form, especially the way she "helped" him remove "dirt" with her own soft stroking. _She's been having a good effect on you, idiot,_ the zakkeg had told him not long after they left Citadel the last time, _you're not such an assault on my nose_. She took him in front of the mirror after they'd finished, or he'd finished exploring her again, and he'd almost shuddered and turned his head away. It wasn't as bad as he'd feared, though he still looked far too grey, creased and veiny for his own taste. Ugh. He'd forgotten the color of his own eyes, and though they looked more normal, they still didn't look quite human. But she'd smiled, and told him, of all things, _I'm proud of you, love. I never thought you could come so far back so quickly._ His lips, though, were close to their natural color instead of the rotten black that made him turn away from any shiny surface.

"Now what?" he forced himself to ask, though he couldn't quite take his eyes off her as she slipped on the bikini thing she'd worn for Vogga. And for him a few times too… though not enough for his taste. He'd have loved for her to never take it off… Well, unless nothing was going to replace it.

"T3."

His nose contorted on him almost out of his control. And at that, she burst out laughing.

"I figured that. Why else would I wear this? Just call it 'incentive' to help me. And you have to be 'nice' to him. Or at least not needlessly cruel."

"Are you trying to make this redemption thing impossible for me? That's not very Jedi-like of you."

"I think you can manage it, though you never quite got the hang of being nice even before you fell."

"Fine. What do you need me to do?"

He shuddered when they found the droid with its creepy little tool-arm extended working on the hyperdrive. No wonder the drive was still a little wonky and pulsed a little too much when it first engaged. He only breathed a little easier when she shut the thing down in the cargo hold so she could do her greasy thing on him. But, damn, the grease did something interesting to her when it got all over both the bikini and everywhere else… Hunh. And there was a subtle poetry in her movements when she opened the droid's side panel and set to work diagnosing the tin can's problem.

"Can you give me the hydrospanner? Poor little guy's had more than one stuck motivator…"

"Hunh?"

"Hydrospanner."

"Right."

She wiped a hand across her cheek and left a streak of black behind. It brought out the roundness in her cheek, and created a flattering shadow beneath. "Atton!"

"What?"

"Are you getting me the hydrospanner or not?" Annoyed this time. Well, what did she expect, wearing that scrap of metal like she was?

"Fine, here!"

"You're impossible." But she chuckled just a little as she went to work on the tin can.

As she fiddled, she seemed to drift away into a world where only the clinking of gears and the cranking of the spanner mattered. It was a shame, because…

"Tell me some more stories about your exile."

She didn't notice him speaking, and he missed the soft precision of her voice, and the trace of Dantooine's breezes in her accent.

"Jay!"

"Wha-?"

"I want to know more about your exile."

"What about it?"

"Well, how many planets did you ply your massage trade on?"

"A couple, but only when the slicing work got too thin to feed me."

"No stories?"

"Running isn't very interesting, and backwater worlds are backwaters for a reason." She pulled out one of the tin can's motivators and scraped a bunch of corroded gunk from it. "Poor little guy! It must've been a pain for him every time he tried to move…"

He'd been trying really hard to stuff down his most _passionate_ impulses for fear of them igniting violence in him, but there was something just so endearing in her concern for a mechanical device that he hesitated for only a second before he grabbed her and set to work on her lips with the same kind of dogged determination she showed in scraping the gunk away from the tin can's internal workings. To his surprise, she responded with a lot more fervor, and it was only when she'd smeared half of the droid's grease all over him, and rolled on top of the hydrospanner that she seemed to remember what she was doing. _Endearing_, _concern_. How long had it been since he'd even thought of the words, let alone felt them appealing to him at all? Huh. Too long.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that?" she asked, though her asking sounded more like the panting of a mating kath hound.

"Nothing…"

"Yeah right."

"Hurry and finish with the damn droid!"

She looked at him askance and then burst into that heady laugh that went to his brain faster than a shot of juma. "You know, the grease kind of suits you."

"Are you going to finish fixing the tin can or not? Don't make me take a stab at it!"

"Fine, fine." She set about scraping once more. Deft hands replaced the part and scraped the second clean in quick, fluid motions. She seemed lost as she did it once again, but when he touched her thoughts, he caught a ribald cantina ditty running through her mind that she danced to in front of an audience of _him_—him as he was now, not a year ago. He couldn't tell if he should be flattered or afraid—only a lunatic would want a half-Sith!

She did finish eventually, and the little trash compactor turned itself on with a whir. Ugh—those beeps were annoying! But the little thing beeped away anyway. _My old master… back?_

"Not yet, T3. The longer he stays away, the better."

The tin can tittered in that really irritating way, the same way it had laughed at him when he'd asked Bao-Dur about his prospects with her. And the damned droid had been wrong—more than once during their search for Revan, he'd wanted to point and laugh and say, "I told you so," but he felt like too much of an idiot even thinking of gloating over a machine's mistake.

Breep-deet-dareep! Dreet-deet! _Stun ray? Please?_

"You think Revan's going to attack, Jay?"

"Come on! It's Revan. Of course he is! He can't give his fellow Sith five minutes to make a decision to cooperate with us without brandishing a weapon. I don't know what happened to him after the Jedi Council scrambled his mind, but he's gone over the edge into insanity. T3—if there's no other option, but only if I tell you, ok?"

Dwoooo…

"How are you feeling?"

Dree-deet-zee-dweet! _Moving well. Fast._ Twee-dee-deet! _Like swoop bike!_

"Glad you're feeling better, and I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to clean you up sooner."

Dee-deet! Breep brank doop. _Clean up you._

"I will." She grinned at the little trash compactor and wiped one greasy hand across her mouth.

Zeep deet dwoot dweet! _Not so ugly, male human._

_Say something nice. Nice, fool, nice._ "Uh, right, thanks."

Her grin widened all the more and turned positively evil, which was only highlighted by the black streaks on either side of her mouth. _It's killing you, isn't it?_ Yes, yes it was. "Come on—we have a little lesson waiting in the garage."


	7. Interruption

Damn! He'd hoped the lesson might be in the bunk. Not that he had any more energy for it. One thing he really loved about her was her ease with being dirty—when they'd camped on Hrax, their second planet, they hadn't had a chance to see water for three days. So his heart fell when she motioned him into the garage where a single datapad lay on top of the workbench and she settled down as if to meditate, still fully covered in grease and still more scantily clad than a typical Twi'lek slave. He'd asked her on that trip why she seemed so much at ease with dirt, and she'd said, _I spent days on the ground with access to nothing, no sonics, no water, covered in the blood of Mandalorians and my men on planet after planet. A little mud is nothing compared to that._ She patted the ground next to her.

"What's the lesson?" He parked himself right next to her and put an arm around her, an easy gesture that he'd somehow been afraid to make just in case the boiling Force in him lent him more strength than he'd have otherwise. But the Force hadn't really been boiling for some time. And, actually, he felt almost peaceful. Hunh.

"Control. Use the Force to lift the datapad, and keep it aloft until I tell you to put it down."

"_Only_ the datapad?" Her first lesson with him when she'd started training him as a Jedi. He couldn't squelch his rising temper—how dare she insult him like that?

"_See_, Atton," and when he felt the easing of the pressure in him and let her blue light soothe his mind, she said, "That's exactly why you have to start slowly. If you let too much of the power escape you, it could consume you again, so you have to relearn letting it out a trickle at a time."

"Fine." But he didn't have to be happy about it.

"Shh, love. Just listen for a minute before you do—I can already feel the darkness loosening its grip on you, faster than I would have thought possible. You're a lot stronger than you think you are, and you're doing better than I'd dared hope."

She laid her head on his shoulder and squeezed his thigh. _Oh, that feels… nice…_ _How could I let myself forget this?_ And her words and her thoughts—she was proud of him?

"Of course! And you should know it. Force—I spent too much time when I first trained you _not_ letting you know how well you were doing. I'm s— "

He put a finger to her lips. "If I can't use the Force, you can't apologize."

"Then I won't have anything to say!"

He tried to keep from snickering, which he managed, but he burst out laughing instead. "You'll find something—I have faith in you."

"You think so?"

"Maybe not." She snuggled close to him, her arms around his waist, head in the crook of his neck. Warm. Gentle. Peaceful. And… calm… "I love you, Jay. I missed you and this…"

"Missed what?"

"Just the quiet, the warmth, having you near me. All those things I used to take for granted until I let them get away from me."

"You're just trying to get out of training, aren't you?" She squeezed him tighter and sighed softly, her breath a gentle gust over his chest. "Well, it's working. There's always tomorrow, isn't there?"

And then came the twitch, a tickle deep inside him, followed by a breath of rage that lingered through the Force. And then screams, low, just on the edge of reading.

"Damn that schutta!" she hissed, and stood in a single motion that made his own struggle to his feet look like a broken droid's stagger. "What the hell did he do? Get ready—I think we're going to have to make a run for hyperspace!"

She ran for their bunk. _Their_ bunk… He liked the sound of that, even as he felt the Force screaming inside him. And there, in her footlocker, she dug out a long over-robe she'd looted from a Sith's treasure horde that hung halfway down those rounded calves. The burgundy suited her, though it struck him as being a little too _dark_ for her—a little too Sith. But it did what it was supposed to, which was to hide her near nudity from Revan. No matter how both she and Revan might deny it, though for different reasons, he wanted her—not just to break her. She cinched it around her waist with her saber-belt, all the while muttering, _Damn him, damn that murglak!_

Lightsabers? He strapped his own to his belt just in case. But were hers for whatever pursued Revan, or for Revan himself? He hoped they were for the latter.

"Remember, don't use the Force, love, no matter how you feel the pull." Did she really have to remind him? Ugh—of course she did, because he felt it pushing at him once again, trying to leak out.

"He's going to challenge you."

"Yes—I feel it. But stay out of it. I have a plan."

"What is it? How will you keep the light?"

"You wouldn't like it if I told you. Just wait, and stay strong. It won't happen until we're off this rock."

"You're not going to kill him, are you?" He felt it as certainly as the sun rose in the sky of every inhabitable world. "You think you can redeem him."

"No, not redeem him, exactly. Not that I won't try, but he's beyond dark and beyond being able to wage this war properly. He's an animal—not a thinking being—and not the brilliant tactician he was even at Malachor."

He felt the blaster shots peppering him as he ran—great! Revan was headed this way, blurred with enhanced speed—but the barrage was so thick and so heavy, he didn't have a prayer of deflecting all of them, and his shield was nearly on its last legs. Pazaak! Hyperspace routes! The squeaking of gears as the tin can went about his "repairs."

But she didn't move to unlock the _Hawk_'s ramp just yet, and he felt an almost perverse joy in her as she kept the gates up. _Let the schutta suffer a little_.

"Dammit, Jay," he muttered and unlatched it himself. "You're going to try to make me redeem myself, aren't you?"

"Maybe, or maybe I don't give a damn anymore." But she triggered the emergency controls anyway.

The blaster fire was more than a rain, more than a hail—it seemed almost to be a typhoon of its own.

"Run, prep the engines! I'll hold them off as long as it takes. And bolt the cockpit door until I knock—I trust this schutta about as much as I trusted him at Malachor."

Right—like he'd leave her alone!

"I'll be fine. Now, go! We'll be slaughtered if we stay here. There's a necromancer out there!" Yeah, he felt it too—a shivering in the Force, as if the man could cut his way through it.


	8. Challenge

He slammed the door behind him and did his best to keep his fingers on the controls as the engines stuttered to life. Almost against his own fears and need to save himself, he looked out and watched her viridian blades fly as she held lines of droids back from the black-robed figure who had been a part of both his wishes and his nightmares for so long. He felt her trying not to give in to the fury that raged across her mind like a poison storm on Telos, to keep herself calm and centered on her form—_Niman_—and her mind on the main focus of getting the slagheap and "that damned schutta" back to the ship. It seemed almost a losing battle, especially when she didn't call upon the Force to aid her in blasting their enemies.

"Angry, Jane?" he felt in her mind.

"Get on the ship, schutta!"

"Surrender, Jane. You know you want to."

"If you don't get the hell onto the ship, there won't be anyone alive to surrender. Go!"

"Irritated request: While this battle makes my behavior core glow with pure joy, I would far prefer to survive to enjoy another battle another day, Master."

"Listen to HK, murglak! I'll hold them off for a minute, but I don't have much left in me. Go!"

"Fine, Jane. You win. For now."

He felt the surge she'd been holding back just as the engines caught and hummed, and he felt the wave blowing things apart as it flowed from her. _Now, Atton—get the __**Hawk**__ off the ground!_ Teetering on the brink—he felt her trying to keep her balance against the almost overpowering darkness that wanted to claim her. Pazaak… _Switch the face of the plus-three…_ But it didn't work—she was still on the ground.

_Dammit, go!_

With a scream, he toggled the last switch, and then he felt her near. Force jump, just as she had at Malachor in her vision. She shut the ramp in the vision in his mind, and he felt her and the dark man just outside the cockpit. _Fly away, flyboy!_

The door opened and she flopped, limp, into the copilot's seat.

"Get to the turrets, Jane."

_Power plays even now?_ she thought, her mind as deflated as her body.

"You go—I can't shoot my way out of a plasteel cylinder."

"It's true, Revan. On Peragus, she only shot five invading Sith troops, even though somebody remotely competent might have killed all of them."

He wasn't expecting her laugh—not when anyone else might have taken offense at his teasing. But she had, as she used to before…

"Go, murglak, and take a few of those bastards out."

He did his best to dodge the rain of AD laser pulses, and took pride in the fact that they were still intact when he left the upper atmosphere. He didn't even have time to let her grin warm him or to really appreciate her thought, _I missed your fool teasing, flyboy! Nice to hear the cruelty's gone…_ It was only, after endless, pitching, half-drunken yaws that they cleared the low-altitude laser emplacements and fighters the necromancer sent after them, that he let the warmth of her bolster him. He hadn't thought there was still much about him for even such a lax judge of character as Jay to appreciate, so it brightened his thoughts all the more.

With a grin, he asked, "Where to, now?"

"Hrax. I think we all need a chance to recover somewhere vaguely friendly."

Good choice, though it was two weeks away. Two weeks of enclosed ship. And Revan. And the slagheap. He had a sudden longing for Citadel and its quiet simplicity.

"Too close," she muttered as he felt the Force stir more and more strongly. Revan was coming. Great.

"Why didn't you use the Force?" But he knew the answer even before she spoke.

"I was too angry. Force, I need time to meditate, but he knows—damn him!"

And, as if on cue, Revan was there. "See," she whispered and when he did, he almost lost his focus on plotting the last coordinates for Hrax.

The man wasn't just pale red, a bit darker than he himself was—he was a bright, vibrant crimson that seared his eyes. Jay shuddered in the copilot's seat—maybe she felt it too through him. Or maybe she… He touched her mind and caught her own memory of seeing Revan's darkness. Revan had been paler _this morning,_ a shade or two darker than he himself had been after he'd attacked her. _His fall is complete… He's gone—maybe…_ The wild hope he caught in her at the "maybe" seemed more than a little naïve, even for a Jedi as strong in the light as she was.

"Hyperspace?" Reedy as ever.

She nodded. "We're going to Hrax."

"Why? Who said we were leaving this system?" And dripping with venom.

"I did—we'd be sitting ducks for their longer-range fighters. Couldn't you read the Sith's thoughts? He was scrambling them as you were running onto the ship."

Seething, boiling—the corrupted Force seemed to jump from the man and contaminate every inch of the cockpit, leaving a film on every surface.

"Padawan, we spar now!" The old compulsion filled him, and only laying in the last coordinate of the route kept him from jumping out of his seat.

_Steady, love_, he felt in his mind, breathy but strong. Right—"never be alone…" He felt that warmth again in him; she smiled when a few seconds had passed and he still sat. He wished he could stamp the pull of the man's words from his mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now," he heard himself say, before he realized just what he'd done. He'd _resisted_.

"So, you've sunk your claws back into our Padawan again, Jane. Well done! I should have expected such treason from both of you!"

Her laugh took both of them aback. "Claws, Revan? Treason? You have a strange view of the galaxy. We came here to help you win a war of belief against this Sith 'threat,' only to have you surrender to its pull. If there is one who has committed treason here, it's you. Given a choice of a Sith necromancer as a companion or you, I'd pick the necromancer. At least they haven't fallen so far they can't think straight! You've become less than a sentient, Revan. You're more like a mynock—feeding off the will and obedience of any you encounter."

"We spar now, Padawan, or I blow this ship off course." That the man's anger still pulled him and lit the power within him ablaze was something he couldn't argue. But when he let some of the power go to enhance his sight, he remembered.

She wasn't so brilliant now—not the bright, vibrant electric blue, but she still soothed his eyes, and although her light had dimmed when the sight faded away, she still shone bright enough that he couldn't take his eyes off her. She looked much as she had on Telos, almost bursting with (_forced_) calm, though this man had worked his way enough under her skin that he sensed it was all she could do to keep from striking him. She breathed slowly, in deep measured breaths while she waited for him to speak.

"No, Revan. Not now."

"You'd really kill us all for your idiocy, Revan? You've fallen far." Underneath: _I'm proud of you, love. So proud!_ If he was going to die, he was just glad to do so with her love and respect intact. "If you want to spar, you can spar with me."

"Sparring, Jane? I feel it in you—you want to duel. I won't hold anything back if you choose to fight. Will you still take those odds?"

"I'm not going to fight you, Revan."

He felt the man's thoughts roiling in his head with no discipline, no order—images mostly. A young Twi'lek girl on a beautiful beach, the _Hawk_ behind, and a collection of men, women and the all-too-familiar droids. _I know you won't kill me._ Then, the girl ripped to shreds by a wookiee as she begged him to stop. Killed by a persuasive power the Jedi used to destroy the wills of any who would stand against them—even Jay had used it once or twice, but only when there was no other option. She'd tried to teach him once, but he'd refused to learn; he'd never wanted the ability to take over the mind of another. It reminded him too much of what _she_ had tried to do to him. The woman who had been the Sith hologram on Korriban cheered him on—he hadn't thought much of her in the recording, but in Revan's memory, he couldn't stop staring at her. Deep brown hair, pale blue eyes, and sculpted lips so different from Jay's more rounded and lush set.

_Bastila urged you to kill that poor child. Monster!_ Jay's own thoughts burned him more than a plasma grenade.

"Are you ready to kill yet, Jane? Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to rid the galaxy of your 'goodness.'"

"I won't fight you. Go practice your forms and deflect some blaster shots with HK. It'll do you good."

Bee-dreet-deep. Brank! _You need me? Take helm?_

"No, T3. Go back to whatever you were doing." Though her thoughts were their own turmoil, her voice stayed deceptively calm.

"The droid can pilot. I need a sparring partner."

Dee-deet dreep. _Plan? I pilot?_

"All right," she said. "Thanks, T3."

Dwoo... That pretty much summed his own thoughts also.

"The Padawan is coming too."

"I'd rather stay here."

"A Padawan has little to say in the way of his own training."

"_Atton_ can say whatever he wishes, and you left the ideals of the Order too long ago to even be able to say such things."

"You're one to speak for the Jedi Order, Exile, when you no longer obey the Code."

"Therefore there are no Padawans here, are there, Revan? Just three Force users and our own individual Codes. Or, maybe just two with Codes, and one Sith in all but name."

"Speak like that any more and I'll cut your tongue out!"

"Threats, Revan? You've fallen as low as the lowest of the Sith. Lower than any we've encountered so far."

"Come on—I'll see both of your guts strewn across the garage!"

_Stay here, love. I'll take care of this_.

"You think I'm going to leave you alone with him? Jay, you've lost every last card in your side deck!"

_This isn't anything I can't handle. Please! I don't want to endanger you any more than I already have. Please don't let my failure spell your own doom!_

"Failure, Jane? You're a failure as both a Jedi and a Sith."

"And you're a failure as a human being and as a general. Let's spar!" He didn't like this mounting rage in her at all—it reminded him too much of his own when that necromancer had struck her down.


	9. Deflect!

He followed behind Revan to the garage where the orange slagheap loved to lurk like the evil menace he always was. Damn that junkpile! If Revan hurt her…

_Don't worry—I have a plan_. And then the pazaak game took over, ending any thoughts he might share with her. Fine—two could play at that game!

"Let me cobble together a couple of blades and we can get down to business." Jay the Technician took over, only to fall prey to a flash of fury when Revan powered on both of his sabers.

"A duel, Jane, nothing less."

"No."

"Then maybe the Padawan might wish to spar in your stead."

"Don't you touch her!" He hadn't even noticed the way he fell right into the first Echani stance, both lightsabers drawn and powered.

And then she brought him to his feet again with two words, "No, love." _It will be fine. Turn your sabers off and trust me, please. I need your strength if I'm going to protect both of us._ He was supposed to protect _her_, but who was he kidding? He couldn't even protect himself.

"Shh," she said and stroked his cheek before her lips found it in a soft flutter. "I love you."

"I won't fight you, Revan. But if you must draw a blade on me, strike me down. I won't hurt you."

"I'll enjoy this," that "damned schutta" said, and for the first time, he found himself agreeing with Jay's sentiment.

No! Revan leaped in a black blur just as she finished cloaking herself in the Force to immunize herself against his powers. She dodged and blocked his lightsabers with hers, before she leaped back in a blur. He felt the tremor in the Force as she used that last power she'd learned when the Masters died—a strange power that not only allowed her to move quickly, but shielded her in power and enhanced all of her abilities.

"I thought you wanted me to strike you down, Jane." A pause as the man tried to aim the Force her way.

"I never said I was going to make it easy, did I?" She blocked Revan's red sabers in a flash of viridian and turned them aside with a flick of both wrists. "I don't have a death wish."

She blew past him in a blaze, her robes parting to give him a glorious flash of thigh. Or what would have been a glorious flash if her life hadn't been in danger. "If you want to kill me, Revan, you're going to have to work for it."

The Sith rushed her and set his sabers on her in a blurred flurry that she dodged and deflected except for the final blow, which landed square on her shoulder. She winced but took the blow in stride, blocking yet another quick attack. The burning moved deeper into her flesh (_poisoned energy—is that possible?_) and his as he felt her thoughts. _Dammit, Jay, run!_

"You're weak, Jane. Surrender to your feelings and I might let you live."

"You're going to have to do better than that if you're going to kill me." She pulled the Force deep into her and flipped over his head to land near the orange slagheap. She took the pause while he rushed to catch up to her to heal herself. _Pace yourself_, she said to herself in his mind. _Calm, focused as Kavar taught you. Be the blank datapad screen. There is no emotion, there is peace._

"That's right, Jane, use the Code you discarded." Schutta, indeed.

She ignored his taunts and let herself flow into the Makashi form. Whatever anger that tormented her had been shoved aside, and now she was nothing more than presence and dead calm. Focused. So, when Revan rushed her this time and brought his sabers to bear where her head had been, she merely leaned back and slipped under their deadly humming. She blocked his next attempted Force attack—he felt the killing energy in him as a deep stirring—with a faint flick of her main hand blade. The failure of his attack seemed to enrage Revan all the more as he flung himself into the air to bring both blades down on her wrist. _Oh please. I'm not Kreia_, she thought and slipped to the side, letting Revan take a stumble.

"Clumsy, clumsy," she taunted, though there wasn't the slightest trace of gloating in it. In fact, she was blank. "The Force has turned you into a raging beast, not a warrior. Any proper warrior would have landed on his feet, not his hind end."

The Sith hissed behind his mask and rushed her again. The savagery of the attack set him once again into his stance—he wouldn't let the schutta touch _his_ Jay again, even if it killed him. But she sidestepped one blade, and blocked the second with an quick upward shove. _Don't, Atton!_ The thought, quiet and assured, calmed him. She batted Revan's thrusts aside as if they were small, annoying insects—or blaster shots, and the more she rebuffed him, the more wild his attacks grew, until he swore that Revan was less skilled a combatant than a three year-old with a plastic blade.

"Do you remember why you came here, Revan? Why you decided to wage war?" She ducked as she spoke, sidestepping his attacks with ease. "And what are you doing now to 'win' this war? Are you trying to become the new head necromancer in this region? Tell me your strategy."

"Thrilled declaration: Oh, masters, your fight is the best entertainment I've had in years. Pleading request: I beg you to continue it for as long as possible!"

A flash of thought in Revan's mind which until then had been nothing more than howling Force, _Blasters, HK. She's using Makashi._ "Give me your guns, now!"

"Entreating query: Oh, please, master, will you abuse your droid more this way? I don't get enough of it from my other master."

The slagheap handed his disruptors over as Revan paused long enough to turn off his lightsabers and accept them. Mandalorian rippers—appropriate for a man who had betrayed everything he supposedly believed in more than once. When she powered hers down as well and hooked them to her belt, he thought she'd lost every last card in the pazaak deck.

Instead, she drew the Force over her to shield herself, forming a thick barrier that he could only feel, and when Revan set to firing on her like a madman, she used the Force to deflect his shots away. Slowly he understood, and even more slowly, he grew to appreciate this unusual subtlety in her; she didn't want to hurt Revan, and with a lightsaber, she was just as likely to deflect a shot right back at him. Hmph—this light side stuff required a lot of thought! _I should have had Kreia teach me how to target back shots with the Force_, she mused at his thoughts. _Oh well. It would be much less handy now. Remind me to teach you to do this someday._

A pause and a mask-muffled grumble. "Didn't know that was possible… Damn you, Jane!"

"Are you ready to be rational yet, Sy? Or are you going to keep acting like a schutta?" Sy? Hunh. He'd always thought Revan's true name was "Revan." Maybe not—maybe it was the same as his own "name."

_It's a long story_, she muttered in his mind, _remind me to tell you later_.

"Sy…" The man paused and then snarled like a beast. "You're unfit to speak that name, failed Jedi!"

"And you're unfit to bear it any longer. The Wars killed your soul even more than the Jedi Council did. Zez-Kai Ell was wrong—they were right to do what they did to you."

The hail of disruptor shots began again as she grinned and deflected. "Do you even remember what it was to be Silas Kieran? I remember him well, even after all these years. I remember when he was young, and when I first met him the day after my ship arrived on Dantooine. Remember, Silas? Or did the Council destroy that memory in you?"

Revan flinched but tightened his grip on the droid's disruptors. The ferocity of his attack didn't abate, though his mind seemed to focus. Red—he was the bright red of newly shed blood and that redness permeated everything in him.

"It was a beautiful Dantooine day, just before the beginning of the raining season…" Her voice drifted away as she broadcast her memory.


	10. In the Beginning

He cowered with her in the corner of the Enclave's courtyard as jabbering younglings and silent, serene Jedi moved past her. And then she saw him and heard the Jedi woman who stood next to the brown-haired boy say, "Go say hello, Silas! Welcome her, and be kind—every newcomer deserves your compassion."

Fear. Yes, it was fear—the sky wanted to swallow her whole, to eat her up, and the endless grasses wanted to lose her in their vastness. And it was so empty here—too many humans, but not enough at the same time. _I miss Da and Ma. Why did these Jedi people take me away?_

"Welcome! My name is Silas Kieran." The little boy grinned at her.

"Hi…" she said, her voice little more than a squeak.

"What's your name?"

"Jainia… Dral…" He felt the terror in her ready to consume him.

"How come you're scared?"

"I miss my Ma and my Da. Don't you?"

"Nope." That made him look up with her eyes. Hunh? How could he not miss his parents?

"You don't miss 'em?"

"Don't remember them. I only remember _here_." He felt her appraisal of this little boy.

"That's really weird."

"Is not!"

"Is too! This planet is weird. Everything's weird here."

"Nuh-unh! Dantooine's not weird. _You're_ weird." He felt himself giggle at the little boy's words. "No. Mistress Selene says I must not argue. I must have compassion. I must listen."

"What's come-pash-on?" He was curious along with her.

"It means 'be nice,' even if someone makes you mad."

"Oh… I'm sorry, Silas. Da tells me, 'Never complain, Jane. Try to learn instead.' But it's hard when the monster's waiting to eat you…"

"It's ok. What monster?"

"That!" She pointed at the sky where the thranta floated, its mouth wide open. "I hate this planet! Everything's wrong here. Well, except you. You're nice."

"That's not a monster. It eats bugs and birds. People ride on it."

"Not us? It looks mean, like it's going to drop on your head. And everything's so _big_ here. Like the ground's all sideways! But it's not big at the same time. It's empty, but there's too many humans. Not enough languages—only Basic… And too much quiet…" He felt her tears and her terror suddenly overwhelm her.

"Don't cry!" He felt the little boy's arms around him. "Mistress says we shouldn't cry and shouldn't fear—we always have friends here."

"Not me." She sniffed.

"Yuh hunh. I'm your friend."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

He felt a sudden burst of joy amidst his fear and he threw her arms around this little boy who hugged her. "Yay! I used to have friends back home… I miss Chesh'ka and Veeri. But you're my first human friend."

"Where you from?" He sensed the boy's sudden curiosity.

"Coruscant. Da works for the Senate."

"Your dad's a _Senator_?"

"Nope, but he works for one. He told me he reads laws and then finds 'in-for-may-shun' about them."

"He's a librarian?"

"Dunno. Ma's a diplomat—well, uh, she works for one. I been to the Senate room once."

"Nuh-unh!"

"Ya-hunh! It's big. Really big. Full of circles the Senators stand on, and when they want to talk, the circles move to the middle of the room like a slow speeder. Da took me for a ride on the one his Senator uses. Da…" She sniffed again. "Today, Ma would take me shopping if I was home… It's too quiet here."

"You mean the Force? That's why the Jedi are here: for the quiet in the Force."

"Maybe. I like shopping. There's voices, arguing and something else I don't feel here. Languages, lots of people. Everywhere, new things to see when new stores open. This place is empty and has only humans and Twi'leks. No Bith. No Ak-wah-lish. No Rodians. No Quar-rens. No Duros. No Ith-or-ray-ans. I miss sentients."

"We do too have aliens!"

"Da says never call other people 'aliens.' It makes them sad, and like they don't belong. But we all belong in the Republic."

"Your dad's weird."

"Is not!" He felt her smile anyway. "He works very hard. He must be sad now since the Jedi took me away. Ma too. She cried the night before I went to the Jedi Temple. But she said, 'Don't think it's goodbye, Jane. We'll see you soon.' But I'll never see them again… only Jedi." The smile turned to tears.

"Don't be sad! Sadness leads to the Dark Side. Besides, the Jedi are your family."

"Why don't you remember your Da and Ma, Sy?"

"I only remember the Jedi. Mistress says I was three when I came here. I'm seven now."

"You're _old_! I'm six." The little boy dropped his arms.

"Nuh unh! I'm not old. Master Vrook is _old_. And I think Master Vandar's older than the Republic!"

She giggled almost despite herself. "Old! But you're not as old as my Da."

"Mistress says we're not supposed to fight."

"I wasn't fighting. But how come no one argues here? It's weird."

"Arguing leads to passion, passion leads to fighting, and fighting leads to the Dark Side."

"That's dumb. People argue all the time on Coruscant. At the market, everyone argues over prices. But I never saw a fight."

"Maybe that's just for the Jedi." The little boy drifted off in thought. "But you're gonna be a Jedi just like me, so no arguing!"

"It's gonna be boring if we can't argue."

"Nun unh. Besides, you should always listen to old people. They're smart. Like me!"

She laughed out loud this time and she hugged this weird, funny little friend. "Maybe this won't be so bad."

Oh, Revan remembered, all right—remembered so hard he felt his brain want to explode with the force of the broadcast memory. But that tiny Jainia seemed every bit the woman she'd grown into—lively, funny and knowing in her mind what was right and smart, not propaganda. Despite the terror she'd felt with the open sky around her, she still stood for what she knew to be true, and crossed blades with a sharpness a little older than her years. If the hint of thought he received from Revan was any indication, he not only saw it too, but dreaded it. The man dropped his blasters in shock and stood glaring at a smiling Jay. _She_'d enjoyed the memory.

"Still haven't outgrown that wildness, have you, Jane?"

"Are you ready to be rational? It's not 'wild' to know your own feelings and to experience them fully. What makes you 'wild' is repressing them and ignoring them and acting like a schutta no matter how wrong you are. I know you know how wrong you are, and how horrible you've been. But are you finally going to admit it and try to fix the damage you've done not only to yourself, but to the rest of us? Or are you going to keep being a dangerous murglak? I know little Sy is still there deep inside you, just waiting to be let out. So will you set him free?"

He'd never heard a more horrifying sound in all his life than the shriek that burst out of every one of Revan's orifices. It echoed through the metallic corridors of the ship and seemed to travel all the way back to the planet they'd left. Not even _her_ last screams had shred his soul into so many ribbons as this one did, nor had the Force-enhanced scream that Jay had taught him, which literally did rend flesh. This shriek wasn't only something that assaulted the ears, its main force came from the barrage of unfocused agony that smashed past his feeble pazaak game and took him over. Then, after the pain abated, waves of pure feeling assaulted him. Seething hatred of the Jedi Order, of "the Padawan," of "Jane," of the galaxy, of all he'd killed, of Malak, of Bastila, of everything, and, most of all, himself for being weak, for being Darth Revan, for losing Silas.

"Let it all come out, Sy." Ever calm, that soft voice.

"No!" All feeling stopped.

"Watch out, Jay!" He felt the Force building in Revan higher than he'd ever felt even through Jay's visions or his own fall.

Dee-deet dreep? _Now?_

"Yes, now."

How did the little droid know? It didn't matter—the little guy (who'd have ever thought he'd feel anything close to appreciation for him?) projected purple energy at Revan, and stopped everything in the man's mind—the building tension in the Force ceased altogether, and his stream of endless anger cut off, almost as if he'd never broadcast anything.


	11. Man In the Mirror

Jay went to the catatonic man and first pulled down his heavy black hood before she removed his mask. What he saw beneath froze him to the core: he thought he'd looked awful when he'd stared in the mirror, but Revan's skin had gone completely corpse-grey. Well, corpse-grey, if the corpse had been weeks old. Deep fissures ran along every inch of available skin, deeper than Darth Traya's own wrinkles had been. The eyes, though, those were the worst—worse even than Revan's white hair. Darth Traya's pure white eyes had been a thing of horror, but Revan's had ceased to be human; instead, they had turned almost catlike, vaguely yellow, and filmed with white fog. He wondered how Revan could see through the cataracts that covered both pupils like stormclouds.

"T3, if he starts to recover before I've returned with a mirror, could you freeze him with a carbonite ray?"

Twee-bree-deet! _I will._ Dreet-dee-doot? _Not stun ray?_

"Maybe it's better than the carbonite ray… Do what you need to."

Dee-deet! _Okay_.

"Query: Why aren't you finishing this master off, Master?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Observation: Master, you have some serious ethical problems that must be attended to."

"Statement," she said, "Be quiet—I'm busy."

"Mockery: Oh, Second Master, kill me, I beg you, for I am too ethically challenged to fight you." For a broken-down piece of garbage, he had to admit the slagheap did a reasonable imitation of her voice.

She took his hand before he even noticed her beside him. "Run—I need your help with the fresher's mirror."

Clever… But she'd always had a hint of creativity about her—an unconventional way of solving problems, like how to fight the very essence of evil without falling, when the object of all your love and passion was the prize. She seemed a bit brighter to his eyes now, but that could just as easily have been his slightly unreliable tainted sight. They reached the fresher before he could truly appreciate that they still lived, and neither had fallen under Revan's sway.

_You didn't, love_, she thought as she gestured to him to hold the mirror. He did his best to look away—he was still too ugly—still too _Sith_ though he saw a few of the veins had retreated, and he'd caught a glimpse of some of the old deep caffa shade returning to his hair. She unscrewed two brackets holding the surprisingly heavy piece of glass in place with the 'spanner she'd likely yanked from the workbench when she'd told him to run. It bothered him that he didn't remember seeing her pick it up.

How could a sheet of glass be so heavy? He grunted under half its weight as they hefted its awkwardness back to the garage. He wondered again why she was bothering to do this for Revan, of all people—he could still feel her rage deep down, and the hatred just waiting to escape, but he understood enough of the light still to know that was exactly why she was doing it. But if it didn't work?

_Out the airlock_, she thought, though it was tinged with enough of a laugh that he figured she was just kidding.

Well, one thing cheered him—since he was facing backward, he got a nice view of her grimacing face doubled in the glass' reflection. Two of her—now that was a thought! But, really, one was more than he could handle, especially when he caught a reflected glimpse of that grease-enhanced shapely inner thigh where her robe parted. In the garage, she stopped them right in front of the head-lolling idiot. Near him, the tin can sat, or stood or rolled or whatever those things did when they were no longer moving. It seemed to have an air of smugness about it—an insufferable air that made him want to twitch. Or deactivate it.

Twee-deet-dit-dreed-brank! _Stunned old master twice._ Vreet-dee-deet-dreedle! _And mean droid too_.

"Why, T3?" He could feel the annoyance she tried to keep out of her voice.

Deet-DREE-deet-vree-breeb! _Tried to disable me._ Breet-VREET-zeet! _To help old master_.

"Thanks, T3," and the warmth in her voice warmed him up too. "How long until he wakes up?"

Vreet-dee-reep! _Ten seconds_.

Good—the damned mirror was getting _heavy_. But what if it didn't work?

"What's plan B, Jay?"

"There is no plan B."

Great. No secondary backup plan. No devious Jay-machinations. It was either this or… She could always kill Revan, and he knew, without a single doubt, that she could. Not that he had time to think about it; Revan was shaking himself awake.

"What?" he said, and then Revan stared straight ahead into what should have been anyone's worst nightmare. To his credit, he barely flinched. "What's this, Jane? The typical look-in-the-mirror clichéd redemption technique? You think I don't know what power looks like?"

"Look, schutta. Look long and hard and look into the shriveled husk that is your soul and remember…"

She broadcast another of her memories—this one of the band of Revanchists, as they called themselves, on the razed surface of some world, gathered around a bright, glowing young man who spoke of the atrocities that had happened there years before. He had that same glow about him that Jay still had, and his face, young and unlined, twisted in compassion and pain as he spoke of the death of a species.

"Young, handsome and compassionate," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "The kind of man a woman would kill to call her own. Do you remember Sy at all? Who could mesmerize a crowd with his words and visions? Who seemed to live and breathe righteousness? Whose heart was open to the suffering and pain of the oppressed? Who inspired even the most cynical to move to action? I remember that Silas, just as I remember the little Sy who was the only reason I survived my first year at the academy on Dantooine."

_You wanted him?_ Damn, she'd lied to him back in the cargo hold two years ago!

_No, but my friend, Zhu-Shei, did. She never stopped talking about him. It got __**really**__ annoying_. A vision, the friend struck down by heavy Mandalorian fire on Serocco. A striking friend with short black hair and bright green almond-shaped eyes. Hunh. Who'd have thought the Jedi Order was a place to find stunning women?

_Great, lusting after the dead—no wonder you wanted to turn Sith._ He winced but drowned himself in her as she continued speaking.

"Remember other things about Silas, Revan? Remember how he could be _right_ and could do what was necessary to save the Republic? Or how he could tackle any military objective and come out on top? I remember gaping in awe at some of his tactics and his larger strategy to save the innocents in the Outer Rim."

The Sith stared into the mirror, and he swore he could hear the gears churning in Revan's mind. Yes, he remembered, all right.

"Tell me, Sy, of the last five planets we've visited, on how many did we achieve _your_ objective? You know, lightening the Force and reversing a little of the taint?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought. None. In fact, every single one of those planets is so heavily fortified against us that we'll never be able to fix our mistakes."

Had it really been that bad? But as he thought back himself, he realized she was right, and he'd had his own part in ruining things. He was surprised she'd never called _him_ a "schutta."

_Tempting_, she thought, but she grinned at him anyway.

"So, Sy, is your 'power' worth it? Back in the early days of your first fall, you could control it, and even, perhaps, around Malachor, you still kept control of your own mind. But now? It's obvious the power's consuming you, chewing you up, and spitting you out. You have power but no control, the Force, but no objective. You're a detriment not only to us as an army, but to your own damned war! If I had T3 stun you and we spaced you, the entire galaxy would be better off. I speak now as 'General Jane,' not as a Jedi, or as a servant of the light, but as your third-in-command—you're a danger to all of us."

"That's not a very good way to redeem someone, Jane." But Revan seemed almost _humbled_ somehow.

"I don't have any illusions of redeeming you, Sy. I'll just settle for you retreating enough from the complete darkness in you so that your mind returns and we can work together again."

That seemed to shock Revan, for the man's mouth flopped open wider than a cannock's. "You don't want to redeem me?"

"What are my chances when the entire Jedi Council failed? I can feel that you hate me every bit as much as you loathed them, even though I've never done you any harm."

"Never done me any harm? Wrong, Jane, so wrong!"

"I'm getting sick of holding this mirror," she said and he agreed. It was bad enough looking at Revan once, but the reflection made the vision a thousand times worse. "Done yet, Sy? Seen enough of yourself?"

"So you're not going to ask what harm you've done me? Some redeemer you are!"

She guided him to the workbench and they set the mirror down. He grunted when the weight suddenly left him and he rubbed his arms and hands after shaking them around for a few seconds.

"Sit, Sy. Can we talk like civilized beings now? I'll humor you and listen."


	12. A Big, Dangerous Waste of Time

Revan sat. Hunh. He'd expected the man to leap on Jay once more—maybe to try to kill her one last time.

"Humor me? Fine, Jane, I'll be humored. Do you remember Dxun? I put you in charge of three ground assault teams."

"And?"

"And you were supposed to clear a path to the Mandalorian communications installation for the Jedi who followed and then retreat. But you kept fighting and endless reports came in from the ground that you were especially reckless in the battle to take their communications array."

"So?"

"You were supposed to stay safe, Jane. You were supposed to keep yourself out of danger and to let your men do the work for you."

"So what? I fought beside my comrades-in-arms because we were all in it together—Jedi and Republic solders, side by side."

"You were a Jedi, Jane, and worth more than a thousand soldiers. I had plans for you, plans that involved more than just fending off Mandalorians with your lightsaber or defending device installations and groups of engineers."

"My life was nothing compared to the lives of those men and the survival of the Republic. You, of all the idiots, should know that."

"Your life was wasted, and you wasted mine with it!"

He stared at Revan and had a sudden premonition of where this conversation was headed. He scooted closer to her and lay a protective arm about her. He knew how she'd react, and it wouldn't be pretty. No, it would be even uglier than Revan's creased and veiny face.

"Can you believe this bantha poodoo? My life never had anything to do with yours, especially after you abandoned me when I was a little girl. I followed you because it was the right thing to do at the time, but you corrupted yourself and so many of my fellow Jedi that I grew to hate the sight of you, to loathe the sound of your voice, and to despise your needless brutality. I did my damnedest to curtail some of the worst of the atrocities we committed in the name of the Republic, but I didn't have much luck. The best I could do was to protect my men from being needlessly sacrificed to your madness."

"What a load of nonsense, Jane! You knew what your role was supposed to be. You were supposed to be my apprentice, and to rid me of Malak once and for all. But, instead, you chose the path of weakness and broke yourself to avoid your true role."

She shook her head and sighed. "So you blame me for Malak's betrayal. Figures. You created Malak from Alek, you corrupted all of the Jedi who fought, and when the fruits of your labors turned out to be poisoned, you can't claim responsibility for your share."

"Of course you were to blame!"

"I'm not of the dark, Sy, and I never have been, no matter what ridiculous accusations you throw my way."

"Wrong, Jane. I felt you at Malachor when you embraced its power."

"True, I did have to fight, but I'd do the same thing all over again if I was close to a fall. Better to be empty and blind forever than to become what you are now."

"You were supposed to rule at my side, Jane."

"And I suppose what I wanted had nothing to do with your crazy visions, did it?"

"What did you want?"

"I wanted the Republic to breathe free. I wanted the Mandalorians defeated. I wanted all those men you sacrificed to still live. I wanted to save Da and Ma, and my childhood friends on Coruscant. I wanted you to live up to your true potential—to see what kind of a man Revan would have turned out to be if he'd kept to the truth he rejected. And I didn't see much of that come true—only Da survived and the Mandalorians were defeated. The rest all turned out to be a sad dream that died thanks to you."

"Your mother is dead?" Incredulous somehow, but after all the carnage Revan created and those who fought with him created—himself included-, he wondered how Revan could be so shocked.

"At Serrocco. She died under your orders and my command. She joined the Republic Fleet to try to find me when she heard 'General Dral' mentioned. She deserved far better than a meaningless death, and she deserved to see her daughter one last time before the Mandalorians launched that nuke…" He could feel her fighting with herself to keep the tears back; he pulled her closer in the hopes that maybe he could do something… But it was useless, of course. Still, he felt her tension ease as he pressed his lips against her temple.

"The pain is fresh—fresher than it should be." Hunh. Who would have thought Revan might acknowledge human feelings?

"Yes." Her voice was little more than a whisper. "Da told me of her death not long before Atton and I left Republic space, but I knew something was wrong when I fought—my heart felt ripped in two and it seemed half of me had gone missing. I thought it was the sudden death of hundreds as one of the nukes was launched, and the reports of the dead indicated nothing amiss, but for one 'Merram Zilar' dead—a troop transport pilot. I didn't know that was her name before she married Da, or that she'd divorced him."

He felt her pain again, and the memory of her frozen in combat. Her Da's words on Coruscant, and the echo of his own family's death all mixed into a revolting soup of agony that Revan shoved down their throats, perhaps to weaken and exploit them both. _Oh, I'm sure he'll find a way,_ she thought as she gripped him tight. He couldn't look upon this aged Sith and see the savior he'd once followed any longer. Losing that last illusion struck him harder in the heart than even seeing her grieve over his actions had. He'd held it for so long, even through all of her words and her memories, and their year of "war." Everything he'd done for this man, he'd done for _nothing_. He'd destroyed, maimed, and killed men and women for someone whose own goal was nothing more than his own power and will.

_I'm glad you see it_, she thought through the cascade of tangled grief. She was the one who held him now, held him up while he collapsed thinking of all he'd lost and had nearly lost in his fanatic following. This time, he'd almost lost _her_.

_But you didn't, and you're seeing more of the truth. We'll both be fine, I promise. Admitting the truth makes you stronger than the dark side ever could._

He saw just how solid that promise was in her thoughts—what she was willing to sacrifice again. She'd take down Revan if he was in danger, and she'd cut herself off—blind and deafen herself for _him_. She was an idiot to even think such thoughts, especially for him, of all people, but that was the very core of who she was. He didn't deserve her.

"No, you don't," Revan said. "You never did. None of those troops she tried to save deserved her life either. She was destined for greatness, but decided to languish in mediocrity and weakness instead."

"Is this 'greatness' you speak of sitting in the _Hawk_'s garage with nothing more to your name than the loyalty of an assassin droid and the utter loss of your sanity? I'll take my choices any day."

"You're sitting in the same garage. What do you have that I don't?"

He wasn't expecting to see her smile, and to beam the light of that bright grin his way. "Everything," she said. "I have love."

"You could have had love _and_ greatness, Jane."

Finally, it was out, and her reaction was everything he expected and more. There might have been a time when he would have enjoyed that reaction less, but in the midst of all of his revelations, and the power that boiled ever so slowly in him, and the darkness that still, he thought, could claim him any second, he thrilled at her words.

"Are you the galaxy's biggest idiot, _Revan_?" She spat out his adopted name like a curse. "Love from you would be like getting a case of Dantari flu! I've seen how well your version of 'love' worked out with Bastila— both of you laughing over a girl child's corpse on a beach. Hah! Your 'love' was evident at Malachor, when you slaughtered tens of thousands of soldiers and Jedi needlessly. At Dxun, when your 'love' turned several of my friends away from the light, and killed soldier after soldier. Most of all, your 'love' nearly killed me on Dantooine years before when 'Jane' was too 'wild' for you to be friends with. Yes, Revan, that's just the kind of 'love' I've always looked for. Yes, I'm thrilled to death to know that the former Dark Lord of the Sith is swooning over me. Why, the great Revan loved me! Could a girl get any luckier? Schutta!"

Just when he thought she was through, she burst out with more. "Yes, love is obedience to you. Surrender. It doesn't matter the will of the one you love, does it? It doesn't matter what she wants, what she holds sacred. All that matters is that she bows before you like a worshipper before a stone idol. Love isn't love to you—it's possession, slavery. I'll tell you what love is—it's sacrifice, mutual respect, mutual aid when the other is in trouble. It's loyalty—to the death, if need be. It's warmth and joy and shared sadness. It's laughter and hope and soul and pain. It's the willingness to stake everything you are for the one whose heart you hold more sacred than your own. It's sharing dreams and visions and everything that you are, in the hopes of building a beautiful future. Love is a thing of the light, and I don't wonder that you never truly found it, corrupted as you became."

She grabbed his hand tight and whispered in his mind, _Just hold me, love… I think I went a little too far in letting the rage loose._ He did, and he let those words sink deep into him and let them warm him. She did respect him, though he couldn't understand why. _Because I know who you really are, love._

"Angry, General Dral?" Mocking. Furious, but mocking. And he felt his own anger rise again as Revan tried to belittle his love and her claim on him.

_No, love, don't. You know who holds my heart in his hands, so don't let this schutta manipulate you._

"This conversation is over, Revan," she said quietly. "There's nothing more to speak of when you can't even give me the dignity of my own name. If you need anything, we'll be in the cockpit."

That was it? The big showdown? The "redemption?"

_I think he's beyond hope. Maybe Hrax will have a decent effect on him. Or maybe this was all a big waste of time._

"A big, dangerous waste of time," she said, echoing his words when they'd discovered Master Vash's mangled corpse on Korriban. She didn't radiate anger any longer—just a deep sadness.


	13. Misplaced Gratitude

"Madame Rand." Mocking. Still.

"What, Revan?" _Better._

"I don't think we're through here."

"Why not? Nothing useful is being said."

"I want to know why you bothered to try to redeem me."

"It's the way of the light."

"Too bad I've never been able to fully read you, Jane, because we both know that's a lie."

"Fine. I did it for Sy and for the little girl who loved him all those years ago. That 'Jane' is gone, and that love died with Sy's words, but she deserved an acknowledgement that her love once existed."

"You loved me?"

"Thirty years ago, yes."

"That long…"

"Time enough for you to nearly destroy a millennia-old institution and leave behind the seeds of the Sith who destroyed the Order."

"None of that would have happened if…"

"If you'd stayed loyal to the Republic? If you and Alek had been stronger in resisting the lure of the dark side? If I'd fallen the Republic would be _gone_, Revan. Completely gone. There would be no new Jedi Order to replace the one that was destroyed, and everything we fought to save from the Mandalorians would have vanished forever. Tell me that was better, Sy, and that all the havoc wreaked by your fall was worth it. I don't think you can do that, even now."

Silence again, but only for a moment. "Do you know why the Mandalorians fought, Jane?"

"Whatever this nebulous 'threat' might be supposedly had something to do with it—at least from what Kreia told me."

"We couldn't be sure, either, or maybe that memory hasn't returned, but something is out there, waiting to destroy the galaxy. To end all life as we know it and corrupt anything that springs up in its place forever."

"Like what you started at Malachor, which nearly wiped out all life? That I had to fix? Or whatever this 'Star Forge' thing was that you and Alek set in motion?"

"You know of the Star Forge?"

"Not much—just what we heard mentioned in Bastila's holocron on Korriban. It apparently ate a number of your followers alive when they tried to claim control of it. What is it?"

"So she left everything in chaos. I should have known better than to trust her with something so dangerous—she always was willful and impulsive, and the Star Forge required someone strong to keep it from feeding too heavily off the Force."

"Don't blame Bastila for your stupidity. You unleashed whatever this thing was on our poor suffering galaxy, and then you left it to fester, out of control. And you still haven't mentioned what it was."

"Willful, impulsive, headstrong… The little fool." He wondered how Revan could contain so much anger at a single woman. But it had nothing on the festering wound that still leaked for Jay.

She grinned at him and stroked his cheek with the gentlest of touches. _I know someone just like that, love. I wonder who it could be…_

"I wonder too," he said, and lifted her rounded chin in his glove.

_I'm just glad he's back with me._

"What are you two babbling about? I can read half the thoughts, but, you're still a mystery, Jane."

"Nothing important," he said. Damn! And he was about to kiss her…

"And yet, perhaps, the most important thing in the galaxy."

"Perhaps?"

"Definitely! I don't think I've ever been more sure of it."

"Never, hunh? Not even when you pledged yourself to me?"

"Well, maybe then also. You'll just have to do a little _listening_ to find out for sure." What? Then it hit him—the second layer of her words, the way she subtly rubbed Revan's partial deafness to her mind in his face.

And then he really did kiss her as he felt the waves of rage rolling off Revan. While he did, he read the Sith's thought, _You're a pair of petty fools_.

Not that it mattered much to him- Revan had taken too much of him away from her for far too long.

"I love you, Jay," he said when the kiss broke and he felt Revan's eyes on him, seething and enraged, though all he truly had eyes for was that soft and warm smile and the strange joy in her eyes.

"I love you too."

"If you're done being a pair of weak murglaks, we have something to discuss." Revan's fury seemed to be checked by a certain coldness. Once he might have thought that was a paradox, but Revan was almost paradox embodied in living form.

"So are you finally going to tell us what this 'Star Forge' is?" Her own voice, full of such pure impatience that he thought she'd slap Revan if he deviated into nonsense rants about dark Jedi again.

"It was a factory and the center of Rakatan civilization long before the Republic was even formed. They maintained enormous reserves of slaves and endless worlds that fed their own. The Star Forge not only created anything and everything they needed to maintain an intergalactic empire, but it also allowed them to keep track of all comings and goings within the empire."

"So that's where the fleet came from," he said. "Not even the troops knew for sure. Unbelievable."

"It feeds off the dark side of the Force and it corrupted the entire Rakatan empire until it ultimately collapsed. It's a danger, but one that we had to accept to crush the Republic."

"Why would you use such a thing? Was your fool conquest really worth the danger such an artifact might cause? Now it's out there, festering, and there's no one who can stop it!"

"What waits for us here- and I think we've only seen the beginning of it- is far more dangerous than the Star Forge."

"Really." Skeptical. He could outdo her own cynicism at times, but sometimes, she made him look like the naive king of the galaxy.

"I think so, Jane."

"Hm. Well, I'll have to think on it. I wish we could send a message back to the Republic- maybe we could bomb the thing into spacedust before it kills the galaxy."

"We can't. Not if we want our location to remain secret," he said.

"I know. I was just 'wishing,' is all."

Bree-deep-deet. _Is ok to go ship?_

"I think so. Revan, are you still planning to kill me or Atton?"

"No." But that word was accompanied by a huge, enormous, insane sigh. The kind of sigh that would send anyone to a weapons locker if they'd heard the question that spurred it.

"Thanks for your help, T3."

Zeet-DREET-DEE-deep. _Will help good master._

"I know."

"'Good master?' I'll turn that little thing to slag!"

"Revan? Who will pilot the ship when Atton's asleep?"

"Ugh. Good point, Jane."

"You really hate me, don't you?"

"No."

"What? I thought you Sith reveled in your hatred? Used it to motivate you and lend you 'power?'"

"I know what you tried to do, Jane."

"What do you mean?"

"You tried to save me for whatever weak, pathetic reason you had in your head—one that means a lot to you. You were a fool to try, but you risked your life anyway. I…" No, Revan wasn't going to use the word, "appreciate," was he? But the Sith trailed off into nothing.

"You what?"

"Thank you, Jane."

"You're…" Hesitant. And he sensed something buried deep behind the words she couldn't quite utter. She'd tell him soon enough, anyway. Once they'd gotten past her need to keep her feelings silent, she'd been more open than the door to a public fresher. "…welcome, Revan."

"No more 'Sy,' Jane?"

"Not until he returns. If you'll let him. We need to check on T3… Maybe you should practice your forms or… Maybe fix HK… I don't know. You've calmed a little, but I don't think it's enough."

Hmm. That "lie" again. He knew she was the one who needed to calm herself—she shook inside from whatever buried demon needed to emerge and that shaking awakened the Force in him just enough that he was having trouble keeping it contained. Right, seeing... Calm and Sith usually didn't go together. The old man nodded, but he looked just a hint less grey, and faint signs of the man's irises seemed to have reappeared in the cataracts Revan called eyes.

"Come with me," she said when they'd gotten a few steps away. "Please… I…"


	14. Wimping Out

He put his arm about her waist and the alarm went up in him when she sagged against him. Whatever it was that troubled her had weakened her, and that bothered him more than he could say. She led him to their room and sagged on _their_ bunk just as the tangle of emotions, dark and whirling, took her over. She wiped her eyes absently with the back of her hand and sat staring straight ahead. He tried to sort out what she was feeling, but it was all so entwined into a huge ball that he couldn't begin to guess where one emotion began and the next left off.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He sat beside her, almost afraid to take her in his arms with her storm echoing the turmoil inside him.

"Sorry…"

"What did I tell you about apologizing?"

"It's not fair to you to lay this on you. I…"

"Tell me, show me… Whatever it takes…" But he wondered if he could stand the force of all of that pent-up anger without sliding back, retreating into the solace of the dark.

"I…" she began, and then the words shot out of her like a repeating blaster. "He doesn't deserve redemption. He doesn't deserve kindness. He doesn't deserve mercy when I still sometimes feel the force of their screams in my heart, or the screams that still echo through the galaxy on worlds he and Alek destroyed after. I lost so many… Good men, good women, good friends, and those are just the few hundred I knew. Countless millions more suffered at his hands—or more! He threw away his first chance at redemption only to nearly destroy the Republic and endless others… And I… I don't want him redeemed, not when all those millions wait to receive justice."

"Hey, it's all right…" He did pull her close, finally, and let her collapse against him.

"No, it isn't. The path of the light is usually one that feels good and right, but there are times when it isn't fair, where those who deserved better are thrown aside just for one monster to repent of his ways and get off scot-free for all the havoc he's wreaked. Revan got away with so much unspeakable evil, and yet he lives and I have to forgive him and try to bring him back. It's wrong, and every part of me screams that it's wrong, but if I'm to avoid falling, I have to do what I hate. He deserves endless torture and a gruesome death for all he's done, but the galaxy needs him now… Is this right?"

"Jay…"

"And I shouldn't be saying this to you, fragile as you are right now. You deserve someone stronger…"

"I can handle it."

She looked at him, those eyes redder than a laigrek's. "I know. But still, you need calm and I hate myself for not being able to give it to you."

"Hush, Jay." He kissed her temple and grinned when a stray strand of hair tickled his nose. "Just say what you need to. What was it you've said to me more than once? 'Let it go?' Let it all out." That need to protect her, to hold her and keep her safe seemed to shove the violence that still twisted in him out of the way for the moment.

"I… I'm a failure when it comes to the harder parts of choosing the lighter path."

"What do you mean?" As if she could have failed at anything!

"Listen…"

Her, in another room in that same tomb on Korriban that had haunted her more than once with its false visions. She'd been shaking when she'd emerged, her skin white and exhausted and she'd sat with him and Visas in silent meditation for, well, a few hours.

All of her companions gathered around her and around Darth Traya, fully revealed as the Sith she truly was.

"My friends are right—you've been manipulating me from the beginning," she said.

"And you, of all people, would judge me so? Don't I deserve a chance at redemption?"

He felt her thought as if it was his. _Yes, if I can_. But she knew if she stood by this Sith, all those she loved would be struck down. So she _wimped out_, said she wouldn't intervene, only to be lectured on her "apathy." And then she had to battle all the figures in her vision, flinching and screaming in her heart as they went down under a barrage of her lightning. Especially when _he_ vanished.

He remembered how she'd fallen into his arms when she'd returned to the cave, and he'd felt, even through the pazaak game in his mind, her silent shriek.

"And that's why the lighter path is 'fraught with difficulty,' as Vrook once said. I don't feel the same urge to redeem, not when those I love pay the price for some unworthy's ' redemption.' I know that everyone is 'worthy of compassion' or should be given every bit of aid to bring themselves back, but it brings me no comfort to do it sometimes. Those who suffered at Revan's hands deserve far better than what he's given them, and better than what he's getting. I hate that I had to try to save him, and I hate that I have to help him. I feel like I'm spitting on the memories of millions—or is it billions now?—when I try to convince myself that bringing him back is the right thing to do."

"So why redeem me? I've killed… well, I don't know how many…"

"But you regret it and you want to come back. Besides, I love you."

"You're an idiot, Jay."

"Maybe. But Revan doesn't regret any of it, and that's why I… regret even trying to bring him back even if he did just show that glimmer of humanity. This was why I was always 'mediocre' as Vrook always said."


	15. Mediocre

He stood and shut the door to the dormitory. Revan was off doing Revan things, but he still wanted privacy, and latching it made him feel better. He pulled two mattresses down from the other bunks and motioned to her to join him. She managed a small smile through the rain of tears that had somehow escaped her control. He remembered that holorecording of Vrook and that short little alien with the squeaky voice who both uttered ridiculous lies about her. _Middling student of the Force, but with a unique talent… Lust for power._

"Tell me a story, Jay," he said when she curled up next to him on the mattresses facing him. She tangled herself around him and melted into his arms. "Remember that recording on Dantooine? What was that fight you had that those stupid Masters were talking about?"

"Vrook's Padawan, Koo'rash, an Aqualish with an attitude, had been harassing a youngling about surrendering to his 'attachments.' I think you know who this youngling was, love. A seven year-old Mical, actually, who missed his parents. I first tried to reason with Koo'rash about leaving the younglings alone, but he became belligerent on me and insulted me. We got in a tangle, and Vrook had to stop us from screaming at each other. The man was a brute, though Vrook would never admit it. My Master just clucked at me once or twice and told me that while I was right to intervene, I shouldn't have allowed my 'passions' such free rein. I had to laugh when Vrook's former Padawan was one of the first to join Revan's crusade, and was one of the first to leave the light at Dxun."

He snorted and kissed her forehead. "Was there anything Vrook was right about?"

"I don't honestly know, love. All I know is that he was wrong about the Mandalorians, wrong about Dantooine's mercenaries, wrong about his Padawan… But I'm biased—he had to have been right about _something_ to be chosen for the Council."

"I don't know—the only one who seemed to have any wisdom at all, from what I remember, was the one you were in love with. That Kavar guy."

"Maybe, but I'm not the best judge, and the Council had many flaws, just as the Order did. And I sometimes wonder, as others have, whether or not their teachings had something to do with Revan's fall or the fall of so many after. You've seen the lie of Sith teachings and you've probably seen parts of them that seem, on the surface, to be reasonable. I never understood their allure myself, but most of those who fell under their sway were remarkable in some way. You feel Revan's power—he'd always been strong in the Force, and his ability to learn was unmatched on Dantooine. He was treated with some fear by the Council, even as they were outwardly lauding his talents. If they'd found you or Mira or Bao, you would all receive the same suspicion. Me—I was treated as a pariah by some on the Council, and as a savior by others for my own 'ability.'"

"Why me?"

"You picked up a whole childhood's worth of training in a matter of months. You're one of the most natural talents I've ever seen, and given time and training and a place where the Force isn't so polluted, you could equal Vrook or Kavar in a couple of years. I'm not surprised you channeled so much of the Force so quickly when you trained with Revan; you're born to it. I think that was the lure of the dark side for so many—the chance to absorb the Force to your full potential quickly, and why the Sith teachings gained so much traction when Revan brought them from wherever he found them. It was a chance to be different and exceptional, rather than a part of the hive mind that was the Order. Life in the Order could be stifling and cloistered and could crush the differences and innovations out of you."

The cascade of words flowed over him and he absorbed all of them, though his mind had been caught up in her assessment of him—natural, born to the Force. He'd never known that—not for sure, though the power had exploded in him when he'd begun to fall.

"It's why you have to be careful—more careful than I do. The potential in you makes you riper pickings for the dark side and for Revan. But you'll grow quickly even following the longer path of the light. I should have told you your potential long ago, and I should have warned you. I haven't been the Master you deserved—I lack the foresight that's so essential when one is training a beginner."

"You think another Master would have been 'better?' You're an idiot. If what you told me was true, I'd have been kept as an infant for years on end, while they all poked and prodded at me like I was some zoo animal. Besides, if I'd fallen to the dark side, would any of those Masters have helped me find my way back?"

"I don't think that's true at all. And, of course they would. Probably better than I can. They certainly wouldn't be lying in crying heaps, regretting their attempts at redemption."

"No, they would have just fallen themselves, or punished me because they were afraid."

"Well, maybe the latter. Especially after learning of your past with Revan. But Revan himself would be redeemed. I guess the Council wasn't exactly fair in how it chose to deal with those who left the Order, was it? I mean, Revan gets a clean shot at redemption as a part of the Order, but me—I'm exiled for a decade and then treated like the worst of their traitors after they gladly used me for what they needed me for. Hmph! I guess I hold darker feelings toward them than I thought…"

Who wouldn't? He found himself bitter with her all over again, and he wished he'd been the one to have the joy of removing all of them from the galaxy. That lucky Sith!

"Kreia didn't kill them, love. She just stripped the Force from them, and none of them could take it."

Figures she'd be stronger than the old Jedi Council. Of course a lot of things figured in the erratic, insane ways the old Council acted. They'd gone to war against those who had saved the Republic. They'd sentenced the only one of their own who had returned to exile, and then threatened to strip the Force away from her when they no longer needed her to fight for them. Such hypocrisy was so typical of their kind, and he couldn't stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief when he thought of their deaths. They deserved worse deaths than they got.

"They were cut away from the Force, love. They were nothing. Lifeless. When we die, we'll join with the Force, but not them. I…"

"And you really think they'd have been better trainers for me? Really, Jay? Just when I think you're starting to develop _some_ sense, you keep coughing up endless ronto spit about how great the old Jedi Masters were. You're far stronger than they are, and I think any of them would have folded under the burdens you're bearing now."

"But I still failed you."

"Stop being an idiot! I chose to train with Revan. I chose to ignore all your warnings, all your tears. I chose to leave you for power I thought would protect you. You did what you could to stop me, but I chose not to pay attention. I'm the one who failed, and, worse, I'm the one who abandoned you. So if you're going to take on blame for every single thing that's wrong with the galaxy, could you at least leave this off your endless list of regret?"

"Only if you learn to finally forgive yourself for what you did during the Jedi Civil War. I mean, I have to have an example to follow in this whole self-forgiveness thing, don't I?"

"Riiiight. Who's the teacher here?"

"You are." Her lips cracked open into one of the most pathetic looking smiles he'd ever seen. "Who taught me how to recover mines? Besides, I've never figured out how to do it myself." She wiped a few tears away with her bent finger, and snickered just a little. A bitter half-laugh.

"Yeah, because disarming mines is just like forgiving yourself. Tell you what, Jay, I'll do my best to figure it out, and you can reap the fruits of my wisdom. But if you figure a little of it out, you can share."

"Oh, so Mr. Dark Side wants to share, all of a sudden? Isn't that against the whole selfish thing the dark side instills in you?" This time she really did smile and she eased the sting of her too-accurate words with warm arms and soft lips against his chin.

"Well…"

"Well?" The tears seemed to have stopped.

"I was only going to say that we might be able to figure it out together."

"Together," she said, her voice a whisper. "Together, we can do anything."

"I used to believe that."

"Why not now?"

"Because I know how easily it can—we can—break."

"But we didn't. We're both here now, and we'll both be all the stronger for it. I can _feel_ it."

"I don't think that's the last we'll see of Revan's… uh… tactics."

"But you know what to watch for now, and you finally believe what I've been telling you. Now you know what to fight."

"You're giving me too much credit as usual. I don't deserve it." He wouldn't have allowed himself those same thoughts about his chances against Revan.

"I forgive you, Atton. Just in case you hadn't figured it out. I forgive you for what you did during the Jedi Civil War, for your temporary fall, for giving in to Revan more than once. Is there anything else you blame yourself for? Because I forgive you for that too."

He saw the truth of it, even as he saw the faces of many he'd killed echoed in her own memories. She'd known so many of those Jedi and he heard her whisper their names in his mind: Jzorj, Vosphet, Shaini, Trin, Gespir… But not _her_.

"She must have trained on Coruscant."

And yet her spoken forgiveness, though he'd known she'd held no hatred or grudge against him, helped him a lot less than he thought it would. Here, in the Unknown Regions, just as it had been in Republic space, and on the Rim, the only one who cared about what he'd done, truly, had been him. _At least they didn't give you a Hero's Cross for your atrocities!_ Bitter, the taste of that memory of hers. She'd tried to talk Admiral Cede out of it, but had only been able to avoid the huge, pompous, ornate ceremony she should have been subject to for such an award.

"I forgive you, Jay." Not that he'd ever blamed her, really. He'd only used a false bitterness about her orders at Malachor to deflect her from asking about his past. And it hadn't worked, as he remembered all too well—he should have known then, but he'd had a lot more time to get to know her since—for she was a mynock when it came to sucking out information.

"Thanks." This smile was unique in its twisted, suppressed hilarity, mixed with a hearty dose of cynicism. He knew that smile—it was his, or had been his when he used to be able to look in the mirror. "You know, that doesn't help at all."

"From you, either." At that, she burst out laughing, which turned to choking when she tried to clear the remnants of her tears from her throat.

"We're a sad pair, aren't we? But better to be a pair than not—at least I can share my lack of strength with you."


	16. Virginity

He couldn't help but assault her lips and maneuver himself about her almost as an invading army. This time, he felt none of the repressed rage or any of the power's churning within him, and if he'd thought about it, he might have considered looking at himself once again through the Force. But that event didn't occur until _after_, long after, when they'd finally showered and cleaned the rest of T3's inner lifeblood from both of their grimy, reeking bodies. She'd taken him in front of the damned mirror once more after they'd fetched it once more from the garage, and both had clothed themselves in something much more concealing. She wore her Peragus mining uniform (_Why? 'You ruined my last set of robes.'_), and he'd piled on three shirts underneath his jacket—all three buttoned clear to the top.

"Look," she said. "Everything about you has been fast—your growth in the Force, your learning, your fall. But the changes are retreating faster than I would have ever guessed!"

True, he wasn't grey any longer, despite his near-ghostlike pallor that more than one of his conquests had commented on. The faint tint of peach seemed to have returned—the tint of blood, of the living. His eyes had lost that hazy half-reptilian look, and had returned to the vaguely slate-grey color they'd been before Revan had joined them. But his face still bore deep seams beneath his cheekbones almost as deep as the canyons between Nar Shaddaa's endless buildings, and he still saw a few prominent veins around his hairline. Ugh. At least his lips looked more or less normal. If he'd known that all it took to return at least a little was to trust in her guidance and to remember the depths of his love, well… Force, he was an idiot! Well, of course, there was obviously more to it, but…

"There's a long way to go," he said finally. "A very long way."

"True." She wasn't one to mince words. He caught her whispered thought, _Lips like mulled juma_… "But you've still made a lot of progress in a mere day, and you should be aware of how remarkable it is. Take pride—but not too much—in it."

"Not much of a Jedi sentiment, is it Jay? Wouldn't they have squashed and trampled any sense of pride any of their own had in any of their accomplishments?" Hunh.

"Well, yes. I'm not much of a Jedi, though. Pride can bring about progress and can motivate you further toward your goal, so it, like any emotion, can be an asset—so long as you don't lose control of it. Express and feel your emotions, and harness as much of it as is helpful, but don't let it grow and consume you. It's a dangerous path for a Force-user to follow, but more dangerous, I think, is the Jedi path of suppression. We've seen what that breeds, and what the dark path of over-indulgence gives birth to as well. I don't know—I'm babbling again. Just ignore me, and you'll be far better off."

"That last sounds too Jedi. Babble on, Jay—you haven't been talking enough lately, and I miss your philosophizing and your weirdness more than I miss releasing my power."

"My weirdness? Maybe. Take pride, but not too much. Never think your power or your progress makes you superior to another."

"I'm not sure I believe that."

"And that's the danger of Sith philosophy, and of power itself. Do you remember Major Riiken? He didn't have any power as you understand it, but he's worth at least ten thousand Revans. Or Hussef—he's worth more than a million Revans. Neither had any 'power,' but both did more good for their fellows and for the galaxy than Revan has done since the Mandalorian Wars ended."

He remembered when he used to admire Hussef—when he _wanted_ to admire the man who had kept the refugees from falling into despair on Nar Shaddaa. How he'd enjoyed helping the man who'd created organization and hope for the endless despair, disorder and agony in the crowded warren of the Refugee Sector. Maybe she had a point, even if he couldn't fully believe in what he considered her naïveté any longer. But maybe he could again. Maybe. She'd been right more than she'd been wrong in all the time he'd spent with her, and maybe he could let himself truly see it again. Hunh. Maybe.

"You can't build Coruscant in a day, Atton," she said quietly. "And I'm pretty damned tired—too tired to do any more construction. I haven't _slept_ in a month or two and I'd love a little company…"

He _saw_ for a moment, and that small suggestive breath of hers strengthened his pride once more. She seemed almost electric again, and he'd become a faintly greyish-tinged, but strong pink. Too dark still, but better. Much better. Infinitely better than the red he'd seen after he'd… _admit the truth, fool_… raped her. He'd never raped a woman, never in all his years of hurting and torturing Jedi. He'd never raped his last, even. He was… scum…

"Shh," she said. "Go lie down—I'll be there in a second. You're not doing so well at forgiving yourself, are you, love? Do you really think I was defenseless? I knew you were going to attack, and I knew it was going to be a turning point for you. It was my choice not to fight you so you'd _see_ yourself, finally. Anyone else would have been writhing in a heap of pain on the floor."

He truly didn't doubt that, once he let himself think about it with just a little rationality. But still… He touched her mind and winced at the flash of her memory. She stared into nightmarish fogged, reptilian eyes surrounded by a nest of veins and deep wrinkles, and she'd still… he wanted to lose what was left of the lunch they'd eaten over companionable chatter and a hint of the old ease. Those decayed, blackened lips hissed at her. It was as if she was being raped by a corpse. He felt the pain of his violation, the sharp dicing and rending of her flesh under his teeth, the bruising brutality of his assault on her lips. And then he saw nothing more than grey panels as she looked away and thought, _I know he's in there still_. He felt her fall into a trance as more of her flesh split and reddened under his unending violence.

"Jay, I…"

She'd slid that silk dress over her otherwise bare body while he'd been caught up in her memory—the thick straps of her tanksuit had gone missing and when she turned to him, she just shook her head. _No_, her thought, vehement. _No more apologies. I know you're ashamed, but your shame is weakness while Revan waits for one of us to slip. You were forgiven before you did that, and your willingness to come back is more apology than your self-hatred will ever give either of us._

"I don't want you to hate yourself, love. So stop. Just be here with me. And while you're at it, take off those damned clothes—I mean, if I'm half-naked, you can try to do the same, can't you?"

"Where's Revan?"

"Off in the other dormitories, his own door shut against our thoughts." She giggled. "And locked, just as he's trying to do the Sith version of meditating."

He tried to smile at her as he slipped off his jacket, and all three shirts. Her thoughts turned suddenly wicked as he unbuckled his pants. Oh, she was thinking _that_, was she?

"I don't know if I can, Jay. It's been a long day."

"I can't either, but I can always think it." She snorted when he slid in next to her on those shoved-together mattresses. "Revan's slipped into Jedi-style meditation. He's…"

"He's what?"

"He's a…" She giggled and then that giggle deepened into laughter. "He's never… Never with Bastila. Hah! He's trying to mask his thoughts, but it's too late…"

"You mean he's…" He couldn't keep his own laughter back.

"Yup. He's a…" hysterical, now, her breath coming in gasps, "virgin! Oh, the poor sot—going over to the dark side, but never enjoying any of its supposed benefits! I mean, passion? Nope. Unrestrained wildness? And Bastila…"

Yeah, he hadn't gotten much either once he'd started to go over. Passion—for all the Sith talk of passion, somehow, all the Dark Jedi he'd known hadn't exactly been swimming in lovers either. Another lie? Not really—it seemed like that kind of desire got lost quickly in the lust for violence and more power. Hunh. Maybe this kind of desire wasn't so evil or the gateway to the dark as the Jedi believed. And maybe it wasn't so surprising that they were wrong, either.

"You're not exactly experienced either, Jay." Well, not until he'd taught her a few things…

"No. But he's almost forty standard years. I was twenty-four, even if I was older than most humans for a first time. And there were a few others after Baz—single nights mostly—when things got too lonely and the screams of the dying became too loud to bear…" She fell silent all of a sudden, and he felt those screams echoing in him too when he snuggled in close and put his arms around her.

"So, a virgin, hunh?" he said. "I guess no woman wants a monster who looks like the walking dead."

She sighed and then an almost involuntary snicker escaped her. "I should get HK to do his impression of Bastila for you." She tried a precise accent similar to the voice he'd heard in so many holorecordings. "'Oh, Master, I hate everything you stand for. Let's press our mucous-lined membranes together in the cargo hold.' Really, it's much better when HK does it. We're probably that damned droid's worst nightmare."

She cuddled closer as he chuckled a little. That memory of hers—the image of his creased and rotting face—still ricocheted about in his mind and it kept him from truly appreciating what he felt had kept her laughing for days. She sighed and spooned against him, and if she'd been even a little feline, he would have sworn she purred. _You don't look like that anymore_, he felt her think, _so why torture yourself?_ As much as he'd been all about gaining power, he'd always been all about torturing himself. _Fool_. Yeah, a fool. But why would any woman, especially this one, want him? _You're Atton. I'm guessing Bastila wanted Revan for the same reason, even if he looks… well, I don't know what he looks like, exactly. But it's pretty damned disgusting, unlike how you looked—maybe older, maybe, well… But you still set my heart aflutter._ Hunh? _Do I have to spell it out for you? You're a damned sexy man, Atton Rand, fallen or no._

As he thought—women were crazy. She sniffed and then flipped over with a huge grin. _Crazy, maybe. But I've got nothing on you, beautiful fool_. She nuzzled his neck and slid her leg over his hip in that old way of hers and as her breathing deepened, he let himself drift into its rhythm. No, he'd never understand her, but he was starting to realize that not only did he have a lifetime to try, but that there was nothing else in the universe that he wanted to do more.


	17. A Shared Vision

He didn't know who screamed first. A cascade of images—his greatest nightmare—woke him, _her_ face blue under his choking hands, another Jedi, a Padawan blown to smithereens from his handy pair of disruptors. And then the shattering that he'd been far enough away from to avoid feeling or seeing until its invisible dark wave dissipated, and he'd been ordered in for a reconnaissance mission. But this time, he felt the wave, saw the endless explosions as his hands tightened around her throat. He screamed as he gasped under his own assault, the air pushed deep inside him and up through his nostrils at the same time, and then the screams of the planet below deafened him until he could scream no more. He dropped her limp form to the floor and flinched when oddly familiar light blue eyes in a too-familiar heart-shaped face beneath a ridiculously complicated nest of chestnut hair opened and stared right at him.

"You!" she hissed. And he screamed again—this time in reality, and hers echoed with his.

She clutched at him, her grey-tinged sapphire eyes darting back and forth, twitching as if she'd been the one thrashing in his grip. She wasn't, was she? That really did make him scream as he searched for his hands and found them in a death grip about each other, his arms squeezing her waist so hard he feared she'd snap in half.

"Shh," she said, her voice in his ear. "It's all right—just a dream. And a vision."

He forced his breath down to nothing—held it, really—as the Force roiled and ate away at his last reserves.

"_See_," she said, " and then breathe deep. It's all right. We're all right."

He did and he tried to ease himself into the blue aura that had intensified about her.

"What? What was that?"

"A nightmare. I felt yours and my usual horrible dream of everything dying at Malachor. You know, I'd forgotten a lot of it meditating—maybe I should give up on sleep for good, no matter how wonderful your body feels next to mine…"

"A shared dream?"

"And something else. Maybe a premonition—you saw Bastila too, didn't you? I get the feeling that her reunion with Revan won't be pretty, and it'll be sooner than any of us likes."

"A vision? I've never had one before."

"Well, not a typical vision. I think the Force is too tainted here to allow what I've come to think of as premonitions. I had one before Revan went off-ship, but the visions that most Jedi experience are more like what we had—dreams, figurative experiences, but they're not warped with old nightmares—twisted beyond recognition."

"So, you really think we're going to meet Bastila? Great. Just great. Another mouth to feed, and if she's still what she was in Revan's vision, we're going to be in a lot of trouble."

"Maybe… Then again, she might divert Revan's attention away from both of us for a little bit."

"How did she know me? I've only seen her in holorecordings and in Revan's mind."

"She might have been talking to me… or Revan. Who knows? I barely knew her on Dantooine—she followed a Master there from Coruscant. But she constantly shadowed those of us who thought about leaving to fight, and gave us all endless lectures about the wisdom of the Council. Really annoying. I did my best to stay civil, and when Revan and Alek went, I went with them at Alek's insistence. It was nice to be free of her constant, endless nonsense about the Council. I wondered that she even had time to train with all her endless harassment."

He couldn't help but laugh at the vision of a younger, earnest and beautiful girl haunting a bunch of discontented Jedi like a ghost, but like a ghost with that precise sort of accent she seemed to have shared with pretty boy and so many of the Sith. Jay herself had a hint of it, but its very precision seemed to get lost in her soft voice and sensual breathiness. He couldn't imagine such a zealot joining everything she so despised, but if he thought about it enough, the fanatics and true-believers fell before the more "flexible" did. And his own wife was nothing if not flexible in her adherence to doctrine over what she felt was right. Her own thoughts seemed to have drifted on to other things, and he caught her musing, _Why Malachor? Why now? I haven't dreamed about it since Atton and I… oh!_

"Hunh?"

"That damned schutta! Forget it. He's not worth it." Instead her hands slipped up to either side of his face from where they'd rested on his lower back, and her lips seized his and didn't let go. Better this than the thought of _that damned schutta_.

That kiss woke him up like nothing he'd felt in months, from the tingling in his lips that could only be quenched with hers, to the way his toes curled so tight his calves cramped. She demanded, she mastered, and she was on top of him before he could squirm to right himself in the grip of her thighs. The silk rode up on her hips as she gripped him, and he clutched at it like a dying man. Eventually he worked it over her head, even as she battled him to keep hold of his lips. She rolled him over on top of her while her hands locked themselves in his hair and her lips ravaged the crook of his neck. He came up just short of entering her when he realized he still wore his briefs.

"Dammit!"

"Whuh?" Though it was more of a squeak than a question.

He stood and shoved them off with so much force that the mattress wobbled and almost threw him off against the bunks. She giggled as he wobbled, more naked than a shaved wookiee in spring. And that made him wilt just a little when he'd been so ramrod straight and so proud. Well, not proud, exactly. But ready for anything she might throw his way. His smile wilted just as fast.

"Oh, come on!" she said. "Just get down here and ride me harder than a ronto, already!"

She liked being ridden better than he liked being the rider. When he did, he couldn't watch her magnificent chest bouncing with his thrusts or see her screams building before she let the loose, or watch her lips pop open as a sudden moan escaped her. And he was damned if he had seen anywhere enough of that lately. Still, she was every bit as impressive from the rear—and both rounded cheeks twitched alluringly as she rolled over and waggled them his way, and if he supported her just right…

"You just going to stand here all day, or are you finally going to join me?"

"Standing!"

She sighed, but only half of it escaped her before he was on her and had pulled her to her knees against him, one breast firmly in his grip. Ah…

"You know," he said in one tiny ear as she leaned back against him. A sigh escaped her and she twitched and shivered against him when he spoke again, "You're going to have to do a little work to undo the damage you've done." Really, though, the way those buttocks warmed him there when she wiggled against him had him raring to go.

"A little work?"

"Laughing isn't very 'light' of you, Jay."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" She tried to sound as cocky as he apparently did, but her heavy panting ruined the effect; he'd seized her other breast and squeezed and rolled both nipples in his fingers.

"Well, that's a start, but you're gonna have to do better than that."

"Schutta," she moaned as he flicked his tongue along the edge of her ear, reveling in the salty wetness that beaded on the back of her neck and moistened her ear.

"You need some new words, Jay. You keep using 'schutta' so much it doesn't even have meaning anymore."

"What else…" she gasped, "do you call a man… who… ohh… won't finish… what he started?"

"You could try," he whispered, making sure to touch her mind as she trembled, "'sexy scoundrel' or 'love of my life,' or…"

"Fool," she said, and twisted her head back so she could just barely brush his cheek with her soft lips.

_That_ did it, along with the raging storm he felt inside her mind when he let her desires wash over him. He bent her over just enough, keeping a grip on her so she wouldn't topple over, so that he could slide right in. Warm… dripping… pulsing, mad, screaming, as she slammed back against him; she was so slick and soaked that it was all he could do to keep from sliding out. All he could do… until he had to hammer her with everything he had as the gasping and pulsing turned into one endless moan that emerged from her like the river that flowed over his own parts and dripped onto the mattress in a never-ending torrent. He lost himself, but not enough that he forgot to move one hand to her nodule and rub it with just the barest touch with the endless and relentless rhythm of his strokes. He felt the effect of his fingers on her in the strengthening pulses around his own twitching member, and in the deepening of her moan into a keening cry. She seemed beyond enjoyment, beyond the ultimate female gift, and when he touched her mind again, he lost every last bit of his control in a huge shudder that not only rocked him from head to toe, but that drove every last thought from his mind. He tried to keep hold of her, but she toppled face-first onto the mattress, sliding off him with far too much ease, and she lay gasping, her head to one side. And then the heat came over him—that scream, that helplessness—had he hurt her?

"Jay?"

"Mmh?"

"Are you all right?"

"Wha?" She didn't seem that hurt, but he didn't trust himself enough to believe his own eyes.

"I didn't, did I?"

That made her flip over faster than a drowning fish. "Did what?"

"Hurt you… I… lost control…"

"Get down here and get inside me right now!" That didn't sound like pain… "I think you know the difference between violence and a little, er, hard riding. At least, you used to." She opened her arms and her mind. Peace… and… happiness… Hunh. Who was he to refuse such an invitation?

"I'm a little too… right now…" He stared at the soaked and pulsing slit between her legs, and wished, even as he settled into her embrace. "I'm just trying to be careful, just in case… But, yeah, I know the difference. I just don't want to ever hurt you again."

"Weren't you there when that HK-50 called me 'a ronto among humans?'"

"Well, I'd call you more of a swoop bike or a speeder; you've got all the right lines and curves. 'Ride me harder than a ronto?' Really, Jay?"

"Well, it's better than 'bonk me like a boma,' or 'hump me like a Hutt," and, somehow, 'sex me like a speeder' just seems wrong."

He couldn't help his smile, though she was grainier than bantha fodder and sappier than a holodrama. "Hump me like a Hutt?" He snickered.

She grabbed him tighter and planted one hell of a kiss on his lips. "You know," she said, "you always could make me feel better, even when I was in the worst funk or the deepest pit of fear. I missed your humor so much, maybe more than I missed anything else about you. Thank you…"

"I'm just a bright little bundle of sunshine."

"Well, to me you are. Damn that schutta!"

"Hunh?" But he felt that burning presence lurking just outside the door. "You still need a better word, Jay."

"Shey echar-ray na-ah chi zalk, Hutt-spawn!" she yelled. That was a bit better. _Go frack yourself, Hutt-spawn,_ if he remembered her story right.

"Don't you mean, 'shi echar-raya ni-ah chi zalk,' Jane? You need language lessons."

"What the _hell_ do you want?"

"I felt a disturbance in the Force."

"Right, a disturbance. The only disturbance we're feeling is from you. Shoo!"

"Did you feel it, Padawan?"

"Stop calling me that! No, no disturbance—just some bad dreams." He never thought he'd stand up to Revan quite that much.

"I could have sworn… The bond calls—she's here, close…" Muttering. Muttering that fortunately trailed off into the distance.


	18. Honor

"You did well," she said, and pressed her lips to his cheek. "I know we'll be fine, even with that 'disturbance' floating around. It may even distract him from his campaign of corruption just a little."

"So, this vision-thing was true?"

"Probably. If Revan felt it too…"

"What's this bond thing he was talking about? You told me that the two of you have some weird Force-bond going on, but why would that bother him?"

"I don't know. I sensed some other bond on him, but I don't know what it is. With Bastila, maybe?"

He remembered that holorecording on Korriban. "Yeah, that bond."

She muttered something vaguely obscene under her breath. "Great—that means we're stuck with her, unless we can dump Revan off with HK and leave…"

"Stop taunting me like that!"

"What?"

"Can't we just strand ourselves on some Outer Rim world and stay there until the galaxy ends?"

She grinned and her hands set to roaming. Everywhere. "Now that's a real thought! I really do wish… Stupid galaxy! Stupid pledges I made to a dead person and a droid!"

When she put it like that, their involvement in Revan's war seemed all the more insane. And even more insane than that, she was the only one working to keep Revan's strategy intact. He caught her mental grumbling in what he thought was Mando'a—she spoke Mandalorian? Why not—she probably had to decode communications during the Wars. _They have some fantastic cusswords_, she thought. Insane.

"Did I ever thank you for coming with me? You never had to do any of this, even if you convinced yourself you had to, and now, here… I…"

"Yeah, I was just going to let you go off on your own into some unknown place in the galaxy in search of the man who left you broken, so you could fight some nebulous, stupid war beside him. Yeah, I'd really do that, Jay. You might have been better off if I had, though."

"I mean from the beginning—after we left Peragus. You could have found transport off Telos and left me and Kreia to our fates. But you stuck around, even when I was running around the station collecting bounties and breaking up smuggling rings, and helping Ithorians and cantina slaves. If you'd asked me, I'd have found you something to get you off Telos and away from all the craziness that followed."

"Well, uh…"

"I know Kreia blackmailed you later."

"You think I would have stranded you with that witch? I loved you even then, Jay, and I wasn't going to leave you alone even if you wanted me to." _Tell me you didn't want me to…_

She grinned. "And if I had?"

"Yeah, good luck getting rid of me."

"I figured marrying you would finally scare you off, but you stuck around anyway. Shows how well I can read a man..."

"You could use a little work. You read Revan perfectly, didn't you?" She nuzzled his neck and chuffed softly. "Didn't I tell you he wanted you? And look at how well you read malraas-mouth—the man drooled over you in even the heaviest robes you wore—but you noticed his lust about as much as you noticed mine."

"Oh, I think I noticed it enough. At least until you stopped talking to me, and then I thought you were saving it up for the right Twi'lek."

"And since I never found her, I had to settle for you."

"See, I knew that whole marrying thing should have driven you off. You're a persistent bastard, aren't you?"

She grinned, but he couldn't for the sudden wave of sorrow that took him over. "Not persistent enough. I let you down, and for all the reasons that should have kept me loyal. Maybe the Jedi were right in fearing love, and maybe Darth Traya was right about 'attachments.'"

"And what brought you back again? Love is only as dangerous as you allow it to be. We both learned of its dangers, and we both know what to be on guard against. So, either we can live celibate, cloistered, and forever repressed, or we can embrace what we are and face the dangers ahead of us together. Either way, we're prey. But I'd much rather be prey at your side."

She was too pragmatic sometimes, even though he usually admired her for it—her philosophy always seemed to be, _Why worry about anything? Life is what's important_. Maybe she was right, and maybe she wasn't—there had to be a reason for all those Jedi rules and warnings against love and passion, but she didn't seem to care. And she did have a point, he guessed. Love hadn't been what had led so many Jedi to fall during the Mandalorian Wars and after, and if what Canderous had said was true, love hadn't been what made Revan fall the second time, either.

"Let me tell you a story about love and the Order," she said, and spun off, finally, into telling him about what "pulling a Bindo" meant. "…and so the Order tried to convince us that love was the real problem, although it wasn't love that made his wife fall. Hell, the moral should have been, 'If you honor your love enough, you'll never lose sight of it, no matter what the galaxy throws your way.' But the Order never sought to learn new lessons, and I think that was the true failure in that sad tale."

"You missed the lesson of blindness," he said.

"No, I didn't miss it at all. Blindness is the thing the Order hammered home. 'Love causes blindness, so don't love. Forsake all attachments, for evil and blindness are the results.' The lesson I mentioned is the less obvious one, and it's the one they missed in service of their own doctrine. And that is its own blindness. Neither Bindo nor his wife honored their love enough. He let his love blind him to her weaknesses and to his own. She didn't honor her love for him enough to keep to the light and she allowed incorrect teachings ruin her love."

Hm. He wasn't sure what to make of her take on the story, or what lesson he should take from it, but he knew enough to know that he hadn't honored his own love enough. Would she have ever wanted him to take vengeance on one who struck her down? Not likely. He'd failed her more than once: taking training form the man she despised more than any other, and in falling away from the self he'd tried to build after he left the wars. Who knew what she blamed herself for? He could feel the apology building in her, even though she'd honored him more than the thought he deserved.

"For not lying well enough to spare you this. For being too weak to keep you from coming along. For not being forceful or convincing enough to show you what was happening to you. For failing to warn you of the dangers here and in Revan's training… And who knows what else."

"Because you're the goddess of all, all-knowing and all-seeing and all-controlling." He shook his head at her insane words. "You honor me, Jay, by refusing to give up, no matter what a selfish idiot I am."

"There's nothing selfish in why you left the light."

"And you still kept faith. I don't get how that's even possible. I don't deserve it, and I never have."

"I could see the changes weren't you—how they hurt you, how much pain your eyes would show every time I tried to speak to you about, well, anything. The deepest part of you didn't want what was happening to you, and I wasn't going to give up so long as you didn't want me to. If you're going to fall, I want it to be because you wished to, not because I was hurt, or because the corrupted Force and Revan pushed you into it. You've withstood more than most could, love. I thought you'd succumb the moment we arrived here-it's been a constant struggle even for me to keep going- but you stood strong until Revan forced that Sith to attack me. And you did it with almost no training. You're a hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. If he'd attacked you, I probably would have done the same thing you did and fallen even faster."

_Tell me_, he thought, _tell me why you blame Revan for that. None of us knew what was going on—besides you._

"Revan knew. Those droids were a test to see if we really did intend violence, or if the necromancer could trust us. He had them set to attack only if we made a move. I felt Revan's thoughts as he brandished his sabers—he was going to attack even if that Sith didn't, and he _wanted_ our talks to fail. The last thought I felt in the man's mind before he attacked me was that I was a liar, and that we couldn't be trusted. The Sith was right. Hell, Revan could read the Sith better than I could!"

"Why would he do that? I don't understand. It's his damned war, so why would he screw it up? It doesn't make a damned bit of sense!"

"This has always been Revan's way, and he's still fighting like he did during the wars. He was trying to goad one of us into falling—forcing a division so we'd be weapons against each other. He wanted tools to exploit."

"Stupid. But it almost worked, except for you and your strength."

"No, not strength."

"Not strength? Then what is it?" She still baffled him more than he cared to admit.

"The need to repay you just a little for everything you've done for me. For all the times you put your life on the line, for helping me feel what joy was again, and for showing me how to smile again. All I could hear for years was pain—those endless screams—but you changed that." Earnest, honest—none of a thousand words could describe the complete lack of deception in what he thought were overblown, exaggerated words. But he'd never been good at accepting her compliments, no matter how much she'd meant them. "But if he'd attacked you instead..."

"Jay…" This time, he was the one whose vision blurred.

"I want your return to the light to be easy, and I'll do everything I can to help and to protect you."

"Maybe it was too easy the first time." A strange thought to have, since his slide into the dark had been almost as simple as breathing. "Maybe should have to work for it."

She touched his cheek and smiled at him. "No, it wasn't easy for you at all, as I remember. You did work at it—harder than anyone else on the _Hawk_. You might not remember it clearly with the Force twisting you, but you did have to work, and you'll have to work hard again no matter how much easier I'll try to make it for you. This time, though, everything's stacked against you: the Force, Revan, and the normal human passions too. It will be like trying to play pazaak against an opponent who only gets fives and tens while you have to work with the full deck."

"At least I'll have my tie-breaker card."

"You are your tie-breaker." She pressed her lips against the tip of his nose and a cascade of shivers ran down his spine. Pazaak and lips and oval-faced smiling Jedi… He'd been too damned lucky, and now he was damned sleepy as well. Almost despite himself, he yawned.

"Get some sleep," she said and cradled his head against her chest. Her soft breasts cradled his head better than any pillow. "I might join you in a little while."

"But?"

"But, I don't know. I have no idea how we're going to manage when Bastila joins us. Just what we need—more dark influence to make your return that much harder… But it's at least two weeks away, so I guess there's not much sense in worrying about it. Or at least that's what I'm trying to tell myself, even though it's not working…"

"There's nothing we can do about it now," he said, and kissed the curve of her breast. He lay a hand on her belly and let her soft breathing lull him into oblivion.


	19. Bonds

She seemed brighter over breakfast, and unusually sharp at the game that accompanied it. He sometimes still wondered why she indulged him with the game, and he didn't think she'd gotten to like it any more as the years passed. But this time, she actually played instead of going through the motions. When she won her third hand in a row, he half-regretted limiting them to Republic Senate rules—until Revan showed up just outside the cockpit.

"I thought I smelled something," the Sith said as he stared at the remnants of the oatmeal Jay had fetched from the synthesizer. "You didn't make any for me, I take it." The man hadn't bothered to put on his mask, unfortunately, even though he still wore his trademark armored black robes. Ugh! He looked worse than the dead.

"What, the fresher feels too confining for you this morning?" she asked, her voice somehow devoid of feeling, though her words reeked of scorn and he felt the revulsion deep inside her. "You never eat with us."

"I thought I should change that."

Great.

"I can see the Padawan isn't thrilled to see me. How about you, Jane?"

"We were just finishing up and headed for training. Love, can you fetch T-3?"

"Good—I wanted to speak to you about the Padawan—"

"His name is Atton, schutta."

"Alone!" That one could glower with such cataract-fogged eyes amazed him.

"Whatever you say about me can be said in front of me, Revan."

"And it should be," she said with her own glare at the walking corpse. "So, if you have something to say, spit it out, already! Or leave us be."

"I'm concerned about your sudden change of heart, Padawan. A Jedi must be certain of the path he walks. You chose your correct path when you began training with me, and you've chosen to reverse your course for the promise of only base passions. You will never achieve true power if you're so enslaved."

"I prefer the path I was on before you joined us, Revan, and I'm going to follow it again faithfully."

_Well done,_ she whispered in his mind. Funny how her quiet pride warmed him far more than even Revan's most exuberant praise had.

"Are you through, Revan? No matter how reasoned and 'reasonable' your mock-Jedi Master speech might sound, you're a Sith speaking out against the very basis of your ideology. It won't work, just as your taking on the words of the old Jedi Order is nothing more than an insult. Go meditate and leave us alone!"

"Nonsense, Jane. I speak only for the benefit of the Padawan, so that he can achieve true power."

"I won't train with you again, Revan. And stop calling me 'Padawan!'"

"Would you prefer to be called 'Jaq' instead?"

He touched the Sith's mind and recoiled at the vision of _her_ dangling in his grasp, purple and gasping, her flaxen hair trying to escape its tangled and ravaged braid. _Steady, love! I know you can face this._ She gripped his hand across the scattered cards that littered the floor. _And now you're going to forgive yourself—you've felt that gnawing guilt too long, and have let it have power over you. It's time to release all of it and realize you're no longer the man who killed. You're not Jaq—you're Atton Rand, the bright ray of joy I married, and the one who made me remember how it was to smile._

"My name is Atton Rand." There, it was out, and the memory faded in him for a few minutes, at least.

"You're grasping at straws, Sy. Harassing Atton isn't going to turn him into a slave version of you, nor is it going to push me into falling. So if you have nothing to say beyond all this stupid nonsense, just leave."

"And if I seek my own redemption? I felt your emotions, Jane, and you hate me every bit as much as I hated you after you betrayed me at Malachor."

"If you truly seek redemption, I'll do everything in my power to help you." He felt his own mind scream and he begged her silently in his thoughts not to promise this Sith anything. "But I know you don't mean a word of it; you claim you can half-read me, but I can read you clear as a datapad."

"You're not even going to argue with me about your treason at Malachor?"

"You know who truly betrayed who there—you betrayed the Republic. And those who followed you betrayed it as well. There was no other treason, and I owed you nothing more than victory. You got your victory at the cost you wished, and my obligation ended there."

Revan took him aback the moment he stopped hemming and hawing. "How do you read me so clearly, Jane, when I can see next to nothing in you?"

_The bond!_ she thought. _It isn't good for either of us… If I could break it, I could… But, no. I can't forgive him—not yet!_

"You're sure of that, Jay? Is that how I can read him too?"

"You can? Of course you can!" She gave him a bemused smile as the Sith seemed to smolder so hard he could cast sparks and set them both ablaze. "Why didn't I realize this before? Then again, I think Revan's mind is a place few wish to spend any real time in." _Force bond, _she thought beneath her words. _You read him through me._

"What the hell are you talking about?" He'd seldom heard such unrestrained fury in the man's voice. "Don't even think of speaking as if I'm not here!"

"Well, you could leave," he said. "Nothing's holding you here, and I'm sure Jay would be much happier if you weren't staring at us. We _were_ enjoying a nice pazaak game before you showed up."

"Damned Force bonds," Revan muttered. "If only I could harness that power."

"You tried, didn't you? You tried with Bastila, and the bond failed you both."

"What? How did you know?"

"I feel it on you. But it's not the kind of bond that leaves you in control, is it? It's the sort of bond between Master and Padawan, but it's more personal. I see your plans now, and why you accuse me of betrayal—you wanted to exploit my 'ability,' to use it the way you wanted to use Bastila's Battle Meditation after the two of you killed Malak. You thought my ability would be yours, in fact, you saw it as your _right_. You thought it would convert me at Malachor, didn't you? You're mad… And I see something else—how could you?"

He heard it too echoed in her. Revan had deliberately shorted her men during the wars, not just on Dxun, but on Serrocco and at Malachor. And every battle in between. He'd wanted to push her over the edge, wanted her to fail and to fall. And beyond that, he wanted her to doubt not just herself, but her very allegiance to everything she'd cared about.

"Monster!" His own words, when he wasn't much better than the Sith who stood before them. "How could you do that to her, when you claimed to love her?"

"Monster? I didn't strangle the Jedi who tried to redeem me, did I?"

No, Revan had done much worse. He saw the battle on top of a white stone building on some warm and tropical world, two companions, who he sensed had accompanied Revan for months, if not a year, falling beneath the assault he and Bastila waged.

"You killed one of the last Cathar and finished the genocide you so decried at the beginning of the wars?" Her voice seemed hoarser than a Hutt's. "And that man… No! You killed Jolee Bindo? And then that little girl. And the wookiee who you forced to kill the Twi'lek. I guess it wasn't enough for you to fall _twice_, was it? How can anyone fall three times in a lifetime? Though, I suppose this fall is partially my fault. Damn. Just… damn."

"Partially your fault? No, it was more than partially your fault."

_Forgiveness. How do you forgive this? Or forgive the one who caused so many pieces of you to leave forever, who killed so many friends, so many men, everyone you once considered family?_ He truly couldn't answer that, just as he couldn't answer Revan's question. She blamed herself for far too much, just as he guessed he did.

_This last fall is my fault—the Force bond made it faster and worse than he would have ever managed on his own. He was grey, love, when we first met him. A little dark, but still human. Now… Force, I never should have come. I should never have followed Kreia's bidding, and the galaxy will be lost as a result. I have to forgive. There isn't any other choice. And it's far beyond me._

"You have the right to hate, Jay."

"No, I don't. Not when the galaxy's at stake. The only other option is for Revan's feelings to change, but we know how likely that is. I have to be the bending branch in the wind, and the rivulet of water that begins a new river. And, beyond that, I have to understand… Revan, tell me why you fell that second time."

"You really expect me to tell you that? To weaken myself for your crazy Jedi mind games?" The Sith shook his head and, even in the nest of wrinkles that passed for a face, it wasn't too hard to see that he thought she was crazy.

"It's weaker to be under my control, Revan. You can't feel our bond the way I can, but it's there all the same. My own weakness in the light has brought back some of your rationality, and if I fell, you'd be catapulted into the light despite your own will. Sense it—feel it, and know I'm telling you the truth."

The Sith sat down in front of them and fell into meditation. He felt the man probe her with every ounce of his focus until his eyes snapped open. "You're telling the truth."

"Have I ever lied to you, Revan? Ever?"

"No. At least I don't think you have."

"I haven't, Revan, so you have no reason to disbelieve anything I have to say. It would be easier to try to force the bond to grow, to take control of you and your war, but I've never wanted that from anyone. Atton and I are here to help you, just as we told you when you first found us, not to be your servants or your slaves, and certainly not to be your enslavers."


	20. Serving

"That's very _light_ of you, Jane."

"I don't want to hate you either. I just want to _understand_ and to help you free yourself from this bond. I think you want it as little as I do." She spoke simply and without any hint of those Jedi persuasive skills she was so expert at, and he sensed Revan's will fading under the impact of those words.

"Before I show you, Jane, I want to read you and feel your memories."

_Careful, Jay!_

_There's no deception in his thoughts, perhaps for the first time in decades._

"I've never been shielded, but I think I can share more than you'd normally perceive from me."

The Sith nodded. "I want to know why you chose what you did at Malachor and why you returned to the Republic. I want to know what's happened since then, and how your power has returned stronger than before. I want to know how you became a real match for me. I want to see known space as it has been since I left."

"Have all of it," she said, and _pushed_ a huge bundle of memories toward the Sith.

Maybe she shouldn't have said "all of it," since he found himself cringing at the thought of the Sith seeing both of them… _Well, not all of it_, she whispered in his mind. She had held a few things back—mostly about him, and the way they loved especially before Revan came. But he saw too much of himself in those memories, and he marveled at the way she saw him on Peragus (_Please tell me he's coming with us!_), on Nar Shaddaa (_I'm glad he told me, finally. I've never seen someone so consumed by what he's done, and by the effort it took to hide it._), on Telos (_Damn, look at him work his way around a mine like that! And look at that tight rear!_), the pang of missing his jokes on Dxun and Onderon (_and that unbearably sexy smirk of his_), and his supposed strength on Korriban after she'd faced the visions in Ludo Kressh's tomb. But most of all, he felt her scream when she came back aboard the _Hawk_ and saw him hunched over on the ground, bruised and battered (_I allowed this to happen with my damned childhood "love" and babyish crying. Is there anyone in my life I don't hurt?_). He felt a few of her memories of her exile, and she was right—her life wasn't too particularly exciting. Not that his had been either when he'd hibernated on Nar Shaddaa until the worst of his guilt left him: he'd had countless one-night stands and too much juma, endless pazaak and far too many nights alone. He focused on her own escapades, though most of them were nothing more than drunken brutes pawing at her, leaving her temporarily quiet, but unsatisfied, with that unsettled, unnerved feeling that was her constant companion roused once again in her. And then there was the Mandalorian he'd met on Coruscant—that Baz Veska—who had a special place in her memories, though he felt she didn't love him at all.

"You deserted a Mandalorian? Worse, you gave yourself to him!" Revan's disgusted words interrupted his thoughts and his own appreciation of her.

She said nothing, but pushed more memories out in a jumble to the Sith, who shook his head as he tried to process it all. He would never have given the man any sympathy at all, but for his own assault on her when he'd let loose with his own burdens. It couldn't be easy taking an entire life in a few moments. He knew most of it, or enough that her most painful moments didn't hit him anywhere near as hard as they slammed the Sith. Malachor. He'd been there. He'd seen the worst of it himself, and the pain of it had driven him to join Revan's next crusade. He'd felt the pain of her blindness and the emptiness the Force had left behind in her. He'd experienced the screams she'd drowned in and the missing pieces of her that went with all the dead men and women she fought beside. But it pulsed on in her memories, though it must have been but a shadow of what she'd truly endured.

"Kavar? KAVAR? The goody-two-shoes guardian who could never fight a true battle? You chose Kavar over me."

"You were never an option, Sy. Never. I never dreamed of it, never thought it once."

"Fool. I mean it. You were truly a fool." He felt the Sith's other thoughts. _A strong fool. A brave fool in her own stupid way._

"Jay's not the fool," he said suddenly. "A fool is the one who claims to love but never shows the slightest signs of it. A fool is the one who lets a woman like her get away, if he even has enough of a brain to appreciate her."

"Then by that measure, you are a fool."

"I never said I wasn't—but once I met her, there was never a moment I didn't appreciate her. You, on the other hand, rejected that little girl, and then expected her to come running into your arms when she grew up. What kind of an idiot does that? You see her strength, her love, her humor, her kind nature, and your first thought isn't how you can enjoy it, or protect it, but how you can exploit it."

"Like you've protected her."

"Like he has," she said. "You haven't paid attention to a single memory of mine, have you? You haven't seen how he's stood by me from the time I awoke, half-drowned in kolto, to the way he fell away from the light to try to protect me. It may not have been the best way to keep me safe, and he may not have had to protect me, but he tried."

"Kavar," he said. "Kavar. You're at least a slightly better choice. Why did you come back to the Republic?"

"I was summoned, given a seat back on the _Harbinger_. I still don't know why the Republic wanted me, though I think Da had something to do with it, and they sought Jedi for some reason or another. The larger why? Because Kreia and her allies were trying to destroy any surviving Jedi, and Atris wanted bait to lure them out so she could kill them. She leaked my name and that I was a Jedi."

"First an exile, then a pawn. Hnh. You don't have much luck, do you, Jane? And the living council? What happened to them?"

More memories, the Masters gone, Kreia's revenge, and the final battles at Telos and Malachor V.

"Jane, Jane, Jane. You couldn't tell she was Kae or Sith?"

"I never immersed myself in their teachings the way you did, Revan. And I never knew Arren Kae the way you did. She and I were not so different in our ability to cloak ourselves from Force Sensitives. I thought she was full of nonsense most of the time, and dangerous lies the rest, so despite her constant lectures, I didn't pay much attention to the substance of what she tried to tell me. I would have fallen faster than you did if I'd heeded any more than the Force techniques she taught me. Unlike you, I see little value in the dark side's disregard for cooperation and charity."

"And I always thought I was her prize pupil. Hmph."

"You were the heart of the Force to her, and I was its death. She hated the Force more than anything, and there are times I agree with her. This blot of corruption, this horrible place in space where the Force reeks of pain and death, should be eliminated."

"You'd seek the death of all power?"

"No, Revan. Just the death of the dark side, if such a thing was even possible. But the Force doesn't want to be light or dark—it wants to stay grey, even if its users would have it be otherwise. I'll serve its will to the best of my ability, as I always have. I'll do what the galaxy needs of me."

"Servant!" That word seemed a curse to the Sith. Part of him still agreed with that assessment, even if he knew both of them still slaved to its will themselves against their own wills.

"Yes, a servant. There's nothing wrong with serving. In fact, there's a certain dignity in it if you serve the right master. You serve it too, though the Force has lied to you enough that you can't see it. The strength and power of the dark side are a lie, especially here. I know you perceived it once, and I hope if this bond shatters, you'll see it again."

"Lies," Revan muttered. "Jedi lies to break me and my will."

"No," he said, "she's not lying to you, and she never has. Can't you feel the truth in her words? You can choose to serve or you can have the service tricked out of you. The choice gives you the control the darkness has stolen from you."

"You never used to be this stupid, Revan. You never surrendered to blind Sith dogma, you chose it; even at Malachor, I knew that. Where the Force is tainted, the Force imposes its will more strongly than any who absorb its taint can resist, even the 'great Revan.'"

"So says the slaver, and the one who is enslaved by her."

"Feel my thoughts and my feelings, Revan. You sensed earlier today that I haven't lied once to you. Why would I start now? I'm here to help you, whether in regaining your control, or in fighting your war at your side. I'm not here to serve you or to enslave you. I understand this is hard for a Sith to accept, but know that I have no intentions to control you either way. If I did, would I seek to destroy the bond between us? I could just tighten my hold over you, and make you my servant, the way HK serves me."

_That statement shows the lie in your purpose, Jane_, the Sith thought.

"If I'd known that traveling with HK this way would bend him to my will, I never would have done it. You've felt my memories, and what I grew to find out about my 'talent' from the Masters. I would have gone back into exile the moment I knew my actions endangered those I loved, and even those I didn't, and I think you know that. Show me why you chose what you did twice, Revan. Why did you fall, and then fall again?"


	21. In the Dark

He felt the onslaught of all of it in his mind as he listened and felt it echoed within her, and as he ran through each of the memories, he couldn't understand why Revan fell the second time. The first seemed at least a little bit similar to what Jay had supposed—that the extraordinary among the Jedi felt the call of power more strongly than the weaker. And Revan was perhaps one of the most powerful Jedi the Order had ever produced, though Jay had grown stronger after her powers had returned. Those memories were fractured, almost as if the Order had taken a hammer to glass, and the new identity they implanted seemed just as broken. What was true memory from false seemed almost impossible to determine, though Revan had been able to distinguish both personalities to some degree, especially after filling in some of the gaps with the memories she had shared of the Mandalorian Wars. Why Revan had left for the Unknown Regions seemed every bit as unknown to Revan as the region itself.

"Sy," she said when the first batch of fractured memories stopped, "I'm sorry. I can feel the fruits of the Council's punishment in you still. To try to reconcile all of it… I…"

"Spare me your pity, Jane! I'm not showing you this so you can hold me in contempt."

"Is that what you think? Is that why you turned, because you confuse empathy with _pity_? I feel your confusion, the constant questioning in you about what is truly Sy and what is false. I know what it is to lose pieces of yourself, and to feel as if part of your life has been ripped away, never to return. Maybe losing the Force or losing men I cared for isn't the same thing as losing the core of who you were, but I can imagine, and I know how hard it is to rebuild when part of you has been ripped away."

She felt compassion for this monster? For the monster who began as a monster of his own kind, even in the days when he was the prize pupil of the Order? What kind of fool deserts one who depends upon him, and leaves her weeping all alone? That was the foundation of what led him to his contempt of the Order and of the Mandalorians, and those who he fought a war to defend. He'd always known his Jay was strong, and he realized once again that her compassion and her warmth were the very things that made her so resilient. She would forgive this _schutta_, he knew, and she'd do it with the same kind of grace that she extended to Sion and Darth Traya. He remembered his own words to blondie years ago, _She's what the Jedi should have been_.

"I'm not here to accept your pity. I'm only indulging you so you'll release me."

"I know, Sy. I know. Or should I call you Trig? Which are you today?"

_Stop that! Stop messing with my mind!_ A scream from deep within the Sith's mind.

"I just want to understand who you are. You were Sy all those years ago, and now I can't say I know you at all. Do you know you at all? It's one thing to have strength of will, but another thing entirely to know who you are. Who do you call yourself? Atton isn't Jaq any longer, just as I'm no longer the 'Jane' you knew during the wars. Who are you?"

"Stop toying with me, Jane!"

"I'm not toying with you. I just want to call you what you want to be called, and to acknowledge the identity you wish to embrace. It's called respect, even though you won't extend the same to me."

"For the one who was supposed to be my apprentice, you really don't seem to understand 'respect.' Respect involves loyalty and not betrayal."

"Seems like that's a lesson you need to learn yourself, Revan." Cold once more. He felt none of the compassion she'd mustered for the man in her heart. "Loyalty isn't what you gave the Republic, or me, or my men. You violated every oath you made not just to the Order, but to the Republic and its military. You let me suffer as you deliberately sabotaged my plans to have most of our men escape the Mass Shadow Generator. You destroyed my friends among the Jedi and among both the Fleet and the army. What did I do to be betrayed that way? And what did they do to you? All of us gave you our loyal service and stood by you even when you had us committing unnecessary atrocities in the name of the Republic. But instead, you sit here and accuse me of betrayal when I've come to help you fight yet another war. You're an idiot, a liar and a hypocrite of the highest order—worse even than the Council was!"

"What I did was for the greater good of the galaxy, Jane. You know that."

"Oh I do, do I? Is that why you failed so spectacularly and I had to spend a year of my life trying to help clean up the mess you left behind? Is that why the fate of the Republic and the galaxy was the last thing on your mind when I touched it just after Malachor? I was trying to shatter the bond between us, but I see there's no basis for me to begin to forgive your barbarity. None. And because you can't help me out at all here, our efforts are doomed to fail in this new war of yours. You're useless, power-hungry, and evil."

"Power-hungry? You deny the thirst that burns deep in you to take in the power that surrounds us. You claim to be free of evil, but what happens when your 'Atton' surpasses not just me, but you in a few years?"

What? He reached out for her thoughts and felt the truth of Revan's words. _You'll be stronger than both of us in a few years, if you keep practicing, love. If you fully return to the light, you'll be stronger than I am in five or six years. I hope we'll both live long enough to see you grow to your full potential._ Unlike the brewing anger he felt in Revan at that thought, her own thoughts and feelings seemed almost to bubble with warmth and pride. Pride?

"I'll be honored to have been the one to truly awaken him to the Force, and to have had a chance to watch him grow in his connection to life."

"Please, Jane. Spare me your lies."

"You think it's a lie? The dark side has twisted you beyond even my worst fears. If he stays the course of the light, words won't be able to express my joy. Atton's my husband and my love, not my rival."

"We'll see what he thinks when it happens."

"Why did you fall the second time?"

And then the memories began again in a constant array of cruel images from the moment this Trig Halon awoke on a Republic ship and crash-landed on Taris. _So many of the same worlds we fought to defend from the Mandalorian menace,_ she thought. He'd flown a few missions in the Second Battle of Taris, taking out as much of the Mandalorian air defense as their limited fighters could, but he sensed she hadn't been anywhere near _that_ planet at least even as she recoiled at the segregation and the madness he slaughtered his way through in the lower and undercities.

"Why so cruel? You were supposedly a soldier, Sy, for the Republic. Why did you choose that course from the moment you awakened? You had so many chances, and so many choices, so why did you make the cruelest ones you could?"

"Efficiency. Survival. You can't crash-land on a planet and survive without credits."

"Madness." She shook her head and leaned against him. He felt her thoughts as a torrent in her mind. This "Trig's" memories were of a reasonable childhood, despite the loss of his mother, on a remote agricultural world, with little to no hint of the cruelty that seemed to shake her to the core.

"And then on Dantooine. That woman and her droid—what were you thinking? That gained you _nothing_."

"She was rude."

On to Kashyyyk, where he supported the Czerka slavers against the wookiees. "Life debt… So that's what drove Hanharr mad… Mira would be curious about this planet. Hm." And then Tatooine, and the slaughter, and a single act that seemed to shock her. _Something for love… Reuniting her with her mother. Why poor Bastila, though? Didn't she deserve better than you, Sy? And what was it in your damned bond that drove her insane? Why would she fall in love with a rotting corpse?_ He wondered the same thing himself, but he'd looked in the mirror before Jay had offered him her hand and her forgiveness, and he hadn't been much easier on the eyes. He'd feared that the deep perverse joy that this "Trig" seemed to take in every little malicious act, and the silent grinning he sensed as his generally kind-hearted companions protested his choices would awaken the love he'd had in torturing all the Jedi he'd converted or destroyed, but he felt nothing more than revulsion at all of it. His own cruelty had a purpose, and one that he'd slowly grown to realize was wrong, even if those Jedi had deserved torment for their apathy. This cruelty was cruelty without an agenda, and without a purpose, aside from Revan's greed. The disaster on Korriban, the pointless slaying of Carth Onasi's Sith son.

"You could have done something!" This time, he was the one who protested. "He wavered. He didn't want to kill his father."

"Is this the 'true self' Kreia hinted at? The sociopath, the cold, heartless power that lay beneath the veneer of your implanted personalities?" Jay seemed equally aghast. "No matter what personality you wore, the coldness, the detachment… When you abandoned me, that was the true you, wasn't it, Sy? The cold lust for power, whether light or dark. The ruthless pursuit of it, no matter the cost. And Zez-Kai Ell thought the Order had committed a crime against you. I wonder if… No. I won't wonder it. I have to find a way to let all of it go. All of it. This is yet another test, to see if I can handle the light. Go on, Sy. Give me the rest."

"The goal is what mattered. The Star Forge. And what lay beyond the Star Forge, here, in the Sith Empire. This is what matters."

"Just show me, Sy. I'll try…"

Two confrontations with Malak, two partings with Bastila, both before and after this "Trig" found out he was actually the former Dark Lord. She had once been beautiful, and perhaps she still was as they stood together on the beach after killing a pair of Jedi. _Bindo and one of the few surviving Cathar,_ she said in his mind,_ a legend and a species that's nothing more than lore now._ He tried to summon the will to care about these two apathetic people who just left the Outer Rim to burn, but… _Bindo had left the Order long before, just after the war with Exar Kun. And this Cathar—I didn't know her. I can't imagine she'd have let anyone else burn the way her people had under a Mandalorian assault._ He had to try to remember that not every Jedi who hadn't fought were the same as the Council who let his family burn. The fractured memories, the embrace of what he was on that alien world, the assumption of the identity the Jedi Council had tried to take away from him, and the acceptance of every passion he felt toward the fallen Bastila. And the fight near to the death with her had only intensified whatever that possessive feeling had been—he was loath to call it love, for it resembled nothing like protectiveness or affection or the humor that he and Jay shared, and it carried none of the sacrifice that he was willing to make for her. This "Trig" would never think of embracing the light side for the sake of his lover, nor would he change any of his course for her. He expected her to surrender—just as Jay had guessed, and just as he had expected Jay to after Malachor. Back on the beach, he felt the full weight of Revan's decision descend on him—Revan forced the wookiee to kill the Twi'lek girl (_Mission_) when she tried to convince Revan to step back from the dark side, and the war hero ran off, not looking back to see if the girl followed—what kind of war hero was that?—and Mand—Canderous swore he'd follow Revan everywhere. Mad…

_I bet Canderous has spent the last decade regretting that he ever decided to leave Taris. He's definitely matured as a leader over the pathetic follower he was here._

He caught another flash of thought in her that she tried to keep buried, _So he was a hot chunk of man-meat beneath that armor. Who'd have thought it?_

"Hey!"

"Oh, come on!" Her protest this time was genuine. "Why the hell would any woman want to do anything other than look for a minute or two until he opened his mouth? Because the second he said a word, any attraction would go flying away like a shyrack on spice. Besides, I prefer my flyboys lean and sarcastic."


	22. Backsliding

The Republic fleet the hero had called fell in an endless hail of Sith cannon fire outside the ancient factory, and the next year marked the consolidation of the Sith Empire under Revan's leadership while the memories came back slowly through the Force and through Revan's bond with Bastila. But they were nothing more than fragments, hardly the sort of all-encompassing memories that seemed to be the hallmark of the Jedi, or at least the Jedi he loved. He had his own moment of half-compassion—he'd tried to forget so much, but if he thought hard enough, he could bring back enough of the substance of any of his memories that they could almost be considered their own whole. It must have been maddening for Revan to know only fragments of what he was, and to know himself only through the reports of his acts by others. She seemed to care for none of it, though. She grimaced as she felt the memories of the endless purges that followed "Trig's" ascension to the Sith throne once again. Malak's followers fell like trees before a Czerka strip-mining plough.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Don't be naïve, Jane. The Council might have been able to suppress dissent through disdain and teachings, but the Sith require violence to shut them up."

"Why the hell would anyone want to be a Sith?" she muttered. "The conformity of the Order was bad enough, but at least you wouldn't be killed for protesting or breaking away."

"Beats me," he muttered, even though he had been one for longer than any rational person would have chosen. But as an assassin, he'd operated outside standard Sith protocols and the command structure, returning from the field only long enough to receive the next assignment, or enough credits to finish his existing mission. Even after this last fall, he still didn't hold to Sith philosophy, no matter what Revan had wanted to shove down his throat.

"You tasted the power, Jane, and you loved it."

"Oh please. I never was 'exceptional' enough to want to slaughter everything in my path. I felt stifled by the Order only because it was so blind to differences. But your empire was worse—a thousand, no, a billion times more oppressive. For all the Sith talk of freedom and loosening your chains and whatnot, you spend a lot of time living at the beck and call of a single tyrant."

"Only if you follow—but if you're strong enough to lead, Jane, the universe is yours!"

"And who was the one who could lead? That's right—it was you, and only you. Even Alek was subject to your every whim just as Bastila was, and just as you wished me to be. That's not freedom, to be so subservient to another that your very life is at stake if you disappoint or grow too powerful for their comfort. For all the flaws the Order had, this wasn't their failing. A Sith doesn't have a choice in how he or she lives; that choice is decided by his or her commanders. The Order allowed much more leeway, not that I was its greatest fan."

"Jay, fighting over dogma isn't going to help anything."

"True, love, unless it's to gain some understanding. But maybe I'm beyond that now, and I'll never see the appeal of power and domination. Bah! It doesn't matter, any of it. I have to go meditate, Sy, and maybe in the thinking, your release will come."

"I don't believe you'll let go that easily; you always were too stubborn for your own good, Jane."

"That may be, but it's the only hope you have if you're ever going to regain your mind, so maybe you could help me instead of insulting me." As if a Sith would ever "help" anyone—naïveté again.

"Go," he said, and hoped the Sith would listen. "We have to clean up here. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay far away from us until we summon you." Where had that come from? She looked up at him as he stood towering over the short man. When you looked at Revan in those robes, it was easy to forget that the man barely stood taller than Jay. He grimaced as a flush of deep fire flowed through him and the urge to send a lightning bolt into the man's heart took him by surprise; he'd thought himself beyond those intense violent impulses.

"_See,_" she whispered. "And breathe deep. Remember how I taught you to silence your thoughts." She reached up to grab his hand, and stood up with the ease of fluid. She played with his scruffy hair with her free hand and gave him a gentle smile.

"Sorry, Jay."

"Shh. Just remember, even though you're in better control now, you're still volatile. Don't blame yourself for it, just learn how to recognize it, and we'll work together to quash your impulses."

He drew back from the violence and let her fingers soothe him.

"Better," she said, and he felt her touch do its work to ease his itching mind. He hadn't summoned the sight just yet, but the warmth of their bond steadied him.

"Jay?" He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say, but he needed her lips right then to remind him why he needed to fight. Those thoughts and memories Revan had bombarded them with just made him cringe and sent his own mind reeling in the darkness. Compassion—yes, he still felt some of his earlier sympathy but the man's endless taunting of _his_ Jay sent the Force boiling in him like nothing else.

She stood on tiptoe and leaned into him as if she was trying to steady herself, but her smile spoke faintly of pride. _You're getting better at drawing back from the brink_, she thought. _You have a long way to go yet, but you're doing far better than I expected._ She dropped his hand and instead stroked away at his cheek, softly, slowly and her smile burst free. _It's good you're standing up to Revan, but you have to be a little less vehement._ And yet that thought, even if the criticism in it would have slaughtered him a week before, didn't bother him now, because he felt a hint of pride in her, even though he'd been wrong. He would have done anything in the galaxy that she wanted just so he could see the reflection of pride in her eyes and in the way she smiled at him. _This _was what he remembered feeling for her before Revan had taken him deep into the darkness. And that swelling feeling of being a part of something greater than himself filled him once more. He had always been willing to die for her, to fight for her, but he was willing once again to _live_ for her. She pressed her lips to his chin and brushed them over his lips as a lock of errant hair flopped into her eyes. He brushed it aside as he stared at her, feeling the wonder of the smallest of her touches, and the way they sent shivers down his spine.

"I…" And then he picked up Revan's thought, lurid and slimy, _And she won't touch me like that. No one has._ He wanted to spit out, _Spare us your pity party!_ But she raised an eyebrow at him that sent every thought of the Sith spiraling into oblivion.

"You were going to say something?" she asked.

"I… Did I tell you today just how beautiful you are?"

"Well, maybe not today…" She grinned at him. "But you're welcome to tell me that whenever you feel the need, and maybe even when you don't."

"Well, then, I'll never stop saying it, and you'll get tired of it, and me, soon enough."

"Maybe we should test that."

He felt the Sith gag and retreat to "his" dormitory, but he didn't really care much. "I'm surprised you haven't spaced me yet."

"I'm a little surprised I haven't myself."

He swallowed hard. _She's just teasing you, idiot._ But that thought did nothing to silence the flapping mynocks in his stomach. Fortunately, her lips did plenty that way, and he let everything else vanish into nothingness as he let the rousing take over.


	23. Training

That feeling of bliss lasted him until they'd taken over the garage and had settled into quiet listening. He sensed the drift of her thoughts into his and back again until he felt them both as a single unit, a single being of light and dark and everything in between. A single set of thoughts? He caught himself choking at that sensation and that flinching brought her out of their reverie. He panicked as a strong set of warm arms surrounded him.

"What's wrong?" He didn't feel her in his mind just then, and the sudden singularity of his thoughts made him shudder.

"I don't know. I want you in my mind, but I don't, and I…"

"I don't have to read you, you know. Just let me know, and I'll stop."

"No, Jay. I do, but I'm…" The loneliness seemed worse than the merging, but the merging made his chest tighten so much he couldn't draw breath.

"You've had a lot to take in over the last day, and I don't blame you if it's too much for you to absorb at once Tell me what you're feeling."

"The meditation's too close, but not close enough. I don't mind sharing thoughts, but this… I… Sharing thoughts was my worst fear for years and years, but it's so easy with you, and that…" He felt his heart clench in on itself.

"It frightens you that you don't mind sharing?" Hearing her words made him think he was all the crazier for it. But he was nothing more than a living contradiction, as the zakkeg had told him once.

"Yes, no. I don't know. I love sharing with you—it feels right, somehow. But I… I hate that it's so easy to let go of the shields, especially with Revan lurking around. I mean, he could read me through my shields, so it didn't matter whether I used them or not, but I feel like my mind has nothing to cover it."

"Like you're not wearing enough clothing?" She gave him a small smile. "With that last set of robes shredded to nothing, I'm half-tempted to take up wearing my armor everywhere. It's not fun being too naked around a Sith."

"Except that he couldn't see through your clothes. And what happened when we thought together during that meditation… I don't like losing myself like that. I don't mind you reading my thoughts, but when they aren't just my thoughts anymore…"

She smiled and kissed his lips. "Maybe meditation isn't such a good idea right now. What say we do a little training instead—and get you a little more in control of the Force again?"

_Don't you have to do a little forgiving now?_ But she didn't answer—dammit! He'd driven her back, when that was the last thing in the world he wanted just then. Training. Ugh—he didn't want to think of the insulting datapad exercise.

"Training? Now? Don't we have Revan to worry about?"

"Revan's not going anywhere, unfortunately. But you need to regain control not just of the Force, but of yourself. And after that, we have to repair HK, since Revan didn't bother."

Huh. He'd forgotten about the rustpile, but if the thing had been activated, it would have been making endless snide comments about mucous-lined lips and killing "meatbags." Maybe the damn thing could stay disassembled—he wouldn't shed any tears if he never heard that staticky high-pitched voice again. _You reading me, Jay?_ he thought; she grinned at him almost unprovoked. But she didn't respond. He touched her mind and felt her thought, _That scowl never goes away when I talk about either of the droids. I wonder what he'll think when I reinstall that Pacifist Package again._

"Pacifist package?"

"Train first, packages later. But I think you'll find it amusing, even if HK doesn't. That damned droid deserves a little payback for trying to help Revan yesterday."

"Jay, I didn't want you to stop reading me."

"You need a little time away from change, love. A chance to remember who you are, and who you were before Revan. That meditation was a little different than I expected—I hadn't thought our bond would make the experience quite so… potent."

"You never experienced that when you meditated with blondie?" Hard to believe—the man had been every bit under her thrall as he had.

"No, never. But I kept my awareness contained so I wouldn't read you. I can't say what would have happened if you hadn't been quite so paranoid." She ruffled the hair at the back of his neck and, on tiptoe, nuzzled the tip of his nose with hers. "Just as well, I suppose. I don't know what I would have done if I'd known he was as lovesick as you claim he was."

She stepped over to the workbench and tinkered around in the cabinet beneath it. In short order, the tinkering became rummaging and cursing. "Damn, where is that thing?"

"It's on top of the workbench," he said. "You left it there yesterday."

"No, not the datapad. Dammit! I wish this thing had a light inside it. Ah, here, finally!"

She turned around on her knees, a wild grin on her face, and one of those training balls in her hand. Hunh? What was that for? He touched her mind again, but got nothing more than a huge faceful of lust as it tried to swallow him alive. Really? He thought he could help her out a little with it… Damn! It hit him just as he was about to make some sort of comment about Peragus, her underwear, and maybe shedding that damned uniform; she was trying to hide something from him, deliberately. He never realized she'd learned _that _from him.

"I have something to teach you," she said, her smile suddenly wicked. "I know how much you hate the idea of going back to the very beginning of your training, so I thought I'd show you something new first."

He wasn't wearing his lightsaber, and he grimaced when she fired up the ball, and threw it gently into the air. "I'm not in the mood to get shot."

"If you're careful, you won't get hit. But first, I'm going to show you how you can deflect shots with only the Force."

Show him how? And wasn't he supposed to shun the Force except for this _seeing_ power she'd taught him? Some of his confusion must have shown up in his face, for she just smirked at him.

"This isn't like other powers, love. It's more like listening, and sensing through the Force. Except, this time, you're using the Force to feel spikes of energy coming at you, rather than reading thoughts. Stand in front of the sensor ball with your back to me, and close your eyes. I want you to feel changes in the Force, to feel the spike as the ball fires a shot. And I want you to point where you think the energy pulse is headed before I deflect it."

Well, this could be something interesting, at least. He touched her thoughts as he turned away from her and felt himself alone in the darkness. He felt her smile and the strangest twitch of amusement. _I think he'll pick this up faster than I did._ No, he wasn't alone, and he felt the pulse of laser fire like a needle in the darkness. Where? To the left, a little shy of her cheek. Another prick, and he felt it straight at her chest. He caught himself so far up in perceiving the energy that he forgot…

"You don't feel anything?" she asked, her voice at least a little incredulous.

"What? No, I do. I… Dammit, I forgot!"

She burst out laughing as another shot buzzed to the right of her head. This time, he gestured, and then gestured again to the side as the shot flew off toward the workbench.

"Good." Her voice carried a certain measure of satisfaction, as if she were a Master taking pride in her apprentice.

Another shot, this time, just a hair to the left of her hip, and she cast it into the metal grid Bao-Dur had built to hold the garage together. The shots came faster, and faster, so fast he couldn't quite gesture the deflections properly.

"Don't worry about that," she said, as if she was reading his mind. "Where the energy pulse goes doesn't matter. What matters is sensing the shot coming at you, so you can defend yourself. You have to make your sensing automatic, almost like a reflex—so you can push them away without thinking. Are you ready to try deflecting the shots yourself?"

"I guess so." Reflex… He'd learned the Echani forms that way, but he'd been younger, and a lot more naïve when he'd trained. Now… He touched her mind and felt that old familiar _presence_ and pride that had made his old training almost pleasure, unlike his training with Revan. He didn't think he could learn anything by reflex anymore.

She gestured him back to where he stood and the sensor ball loomed like a menace before him. He'd felt her pride, but now all he felt was an unusual trembling deep in his belly. He couldn't bear to disappoint her, especially now that she went out of her way to make his training tolerable. _She won't think anything of it if you fail, fool. You watched blondie trip over his feet a few times when she tried to teach him Makashi—and damn if that wasn't funny!—and she didn't seem the slightest bit put off. "Mistakes are normal when you're learning." She meant it when she said it to you, idiot!_

"Close your eyes," she said. "And feel the energy of the room around you. When you feel the pulse change, push it back with the Force when it's nearly on you. Gently, though, not too heavily. Just give it a flick."

_Control._ More of that control she'd be hammering him on later. Well, he supposed he could handle it. And then he felt that prick in the air, and the shot flying at him faster than he guessed. _Imagine you have a lightsaber…_ He nudged at it just before the pin pierced the skin of the arm that flew up almost without thought to protect his chest.

"Well done, love!" He felt her burst of warmth like the sun as he reached out to her mind. And he hadn't felt that roiling in him as he let just a little of the Force within him go.


	24. Datapad

Slowly, first, and then faster and faster, the pinpoints flew at him in all directions, left, right, up, down. He lost himself in following the course of each of them after he flicked them away. To the right, down toward the floor, to the left, up toward the ceiling. It had an allure to it—this defensive tactic—and he reveled in the controlled release he felt from the stifled Force urge within him. Faster now—the shots came two at a time, from opposite directions. He blocked what he could, but as they turned into a hail, he felt the pricking through the sleeves of his shirt instead of sharpened needles in the energy of the room. Faster and faster they flew and stung, and the more pricks he missed, the more the redness grew in him until the burst of lighting seemed to demand to fly out his fingertips. Just as he raised his arm to direct the flash, the pricks stopped and her hands were on him, soft and soothing, one on each cheek.

"Sh, love. See for a moment." The softness in her voice calmed him just enough. He let go of the Force in a trickle and as he opened his eyes into an electric field of blue, he felt the urge to destroy slip away into nothing.

"Jay, I'm sorry. I'll try better next time." He braced himself for the lecture he was sure would follow—harsh screaming if he dared move just a little wrong, or make the slightest error, but she just looked deep into his eyes and her lips twitched upward at the corners.

"Why are you apologizing? Force, it takes _time_ to learn new things. Tell me one thing, though—your control was near perfect until everything seemed to slip aside and you just lost it all. What happened?" Not at all what he was expecting. No yelling, no recrimination, just calm with the faintest hint of pride.

"Sit," she said when he didn't reply with anything more than a stare. And when he obeyed without the slightest hesitation, she knelt behind him and set to work kneading his shoulders. Hunh? _This_ was training? He'd forgotten just how different her approach was—whimsical, almost flighty, and yet not at the same time. "You need to relax, love. Just be easy and let the violence subside. Tell me what went wrong."

"I couldn't keep track of all the shots once the speed increased."

"Hm. You did that earlier too." She mused for a moment.

"You're not yelling at me?"

"Damn that schutta! Training with him has warped you. We're both here so that you can learn, however long it takes. Why should I yell at you? You did better than I did when I first learned how, you know."

"This doesn't feel like training." An understatement, but once they'd left Republic space, the "training" he'd come to know had been more of a game, and another way to share company with her and bask in her presence. But he'd learned, all right. Learned and grown far more in power than he had when he'd trained with the others.

"Only because that schutta turned it into an exercise in frustration to goad you into falling faster. You're not going to learn control by being angry or frustrated. Now, just relax for a moment. Close your eyes, and remember the first night we spent on Citadel alone."

What kind of training was this? But there were far worse things to think about than the first time he'd ever seen her without a stitch of clothing on. And an entire galaxy of things worse than remembering how she'd sighed as he first explored every inch of her with his hands, and then with his tongue and lips. She worked the tension out of one arm while he remembered the way her own hands had been every bit as timid as his mind had been, though he hadn't dared show her just how much he feared touching her the wrong way—just like a teenager might his first time. _I've never seen anyone so…_ His words had drifted off to nothing as he caressed her mind and felt her own fears and endless nerves tempered only by her _want_ and her desire to jump on him and ride him until she collapsed.

_So?_ she'd panted.

_Beautiful, Jay. Beautiful… I want everything to be perfect, like you…_

At that, she had laughed and laughed until he had wilted like a leaf in fall. _I'm far from perfect, love_, she'd said when she'd noticed his frown, but that word from her lips, love, tickled him everywhere and made him glow brighter than their bond, _but since you're here, everything already is perfect._

He'd been a little too eager, but she'd just smiled and kissed him back to readiness again. And again. And again so many times he'd lost count. After the worst performance of his life, when he'd been ready to bury himself in a deep hole until the galaxy ended, she'd tuned him into a machine.

He got so lost in the memory of exploration that he almost missed the core of her little lesson, couched in perversion as it was, they'd been so much in sync so many times that night after that first "failure" that he almost thought—if he'd been able to use his brain—they'd been forged of one flesh. She set to work on his other arm with the same expertise and he felt the last of his frustration slip away. If this was training, he should have fallen years before! She kissed his forehead as he relived their last few moments on Citadel before blondie's hail on Jay's comlink had interrupted their shared touches and final private smiles. Force, he'd never experienced anything quite like it, or met anyone quit like her—inexperienced as a little girl, but wise and more patient than a Jedi Master, more eager than a boy his first time, but softer than the most primped and pampered of the Senate's elites.

"Better?" she asked, and laced her fingers in with both of his hands. "You don't need to be 'perfect,' you just need to learn."

"I think there are a lot of things I'd rather be doing than 'learning' right now."

"Just think of those things as your reward." He couldn't get enough of her wicked smile, not that he'd seen it that often since he'd fallen. "So, datapad?"

Dammit!

"Well, after you tell me what else happened with those energy bolts, that is…"

"I couldn't track them all when I deflected them." He felt his cheeks burn as he admitted it.

"Beginner's mistake," she said. "I made it myself when I was first learning. Just let go—once the bolts are away from you, let them fly where they may. Then, when you've got the hang of that, I'll show you how to let the Force guide you toward the best angle to keep the shots from hitting your allies. But that's a little bit down the road for you."

Matter-of-fact, even though he still thought the heat of his failure would consume him. "I'm sorry, Jay. You told me not to pay attention to the shots after…"

"Cut it out! You're not going to apologize for a simple mistake. Now, just relax, and remember that learning doesn't have to be painful and unpleasant. It might even be…" she snickered, "fun."

"You have a weird idea of fun." Her smile still warmed him, no matter how much he wanted to whine about anything that didn't involve her wrapping her legs around him.

"Relax," she whispered and pressed her lips to his cheek. Easy to do that now that she'd entranced him… "Close your eyes and feel the ship around you. My heartbeat in time with yours."

Slow, rhythmic, and strangely hypnotic. He let the beats pull him deeper into listening and into peace.

"Reach out and feel the faint power pulsing on top of the workbench." Yes, it was faint—the thing had obviously been powered off. "Take that power and cradle it with the Force. Enclose it. Embrace it." Embracing a datapad? But he did it anyway, feeling its gentle rhythm almost as soothing as her heartbeat, and the soft drift of her breath. "When you feel it firmly in your grasp, lift it, and hold it steady until I tell you to put it down."

Dammit! But he complied anyway. He let her voice wash over him and lifted the pad with the tiniest flex of his mind. He tried to focus on keeping it aloft, and motionless, even as the Force swirled within him, until its swirling built to a deafening roar. It screamed at him to release it, and to let it flow through him once more, instead of trickling out like water from a leaking pipe. He stuffed it deep down inside him as he fought the call of Jaq deep in his heart. But the tiny hole he'd punched in the barrier he realized he'd erected against the Force let the power dam about it, until he feared that it would shatter what remained of the wall he'd built. The pressure became too much, and, too soon, he quaked with the strain of keeping it contained.

"Put the pad down," she said, and he let it drop on top of the plasma torch. Her arms surrounded him as his awareness returned, soft and strong. "Well, a little more gently than that…"

The need to release still roared within him and built higher when the shame took over. He used to be so much _better_ than that! His second lesson with her, and he'd kept so focused he'd held the hydrospanner aloft for half a day without losing control. What did he… yes… _see_. Use the Force to see the truth… He opened his eyes to a pair of electric arms against his grayish rose chest, and bright blue lips and a delicate nose just inside his vision as she kissed his temple. The release helped just enough to allow him to repair the barrier, even if it didn't do anything to ease the roiling and burning that seized his gut.

"Breathe," she said and rested her head against his chest. "Slowly, pace your breaths with mine." She took his hand and laid it against her chest so he could feel its slow rise and fall. "And, most of all, relax and be easy on yourself. You're doing fine—better than I hoped."

What? He touched her thoughts as her words slowly sank into the soft matter of his mind—and his heart. Yes, pride, even after his failure.

"I broke the datapad."

"Who cares?" Hunh? "It's Revan's. I'll fix it later. You fought the violence in you longer than you think. I checked my chrono—two hours."

Longer than he had thought, but still, not long enough. Her eyes crinkled a little as she watched him, and he somehow knew that she read him every bit as clear as if she'd been probing his mind. He'd never return to the light, not so long as he couldn't control himself properly. He'd failed her more than once, and this time, it smacked him all the harder, since he knew what he risked if he couldn't find his way back. "Jay…"

"What? I was just testing your limits, to see what we had to work with. Don't worry—we'll work slowly up to what you just managed, to get you comfortable with controlling your power once more."

"I failed. I dropped the pad, Jay. I lost control…"

"Only after I pushed you beyond your limit. One minute earlier, and the datapad would have been fine."

"And then I lost it, Jay. I would have let loose."

"No, you didn't and you wouldn't have. You might have been on the edge, but you pulled yourself back without any prompting from me. You're regaining control faster than I dared hope. You might have wanted to let the power go, but you stepped back, and held it at bay within you. You wouldn't have been able to do that yesterday." That might have been true, but he wasn't willing to give himself any credit. Just yet, anyway.

"But…"

"But, nothing. Just breathe with me and feel my thoughts. See yourself through me, and let the anger float away…"

She snuggled in close to him on the freezing floor and let her breath flow in and out with the precision of the hyperdrive's pulsing. Not that he had time to touch her mind…


	25. Lies

"You were lying to me, Jane."

Dammit!

"How so?" Her words, calm, but not in the way that one might hope—she sounded deadly.

"You felt her as surely as I did. You had a vision."

"So? What of it? We know she'll be on Hrax, and you can have your jollies with her once again."

"I thought you said you'd never lied!" Was that the cause of his rage? "And how am I supposed to trust you?"

"I wasn't even sure it was a vision, Revan. I thought it might be, but visions here are almost as uncertain as one's ability to cling to the light. It could have as easily been some kind of ridiculous shared dream. Did you see Malachor through my eyes? And Atton's nightmare?"

"No." That, if anything, seemed to disturb the Sith more.

"So, what did you see?"

"I didn't _see_ anything. I felt her, stronger than a disturbance, and heavier than the pull you have on me. She's done something, I know it."

"Done what?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice, or the rage. How dare the damned Sith interrupt them like that?

"I… don't know."

"Well, there's no sense in worrying about it," she said. "We're in hyperspace now, and will be for almost two weeks, so you might as well forget about it, unless you know how to jump space on your lonesome without a ship."

"I don't like this, Jane. Not at all. I can't feel her like I used to, and I can't see inside her mind the way I could when we traveled together. She's like a knot in my gut and a hook in my mind."

"She misses you for whatever perverse Sith-like excuse that passes for love. So take that 'love,' or whatever you call it, and find your consolation there."

"There is no consolation, Jane, only passion and fear."

"I can't help you with that."

"Oh, if there was anyone who could, it would be you." The Sith version of flirting sounded like a grating gasket, or a misaligned hyperdrive.

"I'm a little taken at the moment, Revan, and even if I wasn't, I still would rather jab a lightsaber in my gut than even think of it."

"Nice to know you forgive me."

"Revan…"

"What, Jane?"

"If you want me to forgive you, leave me the hell alone, all right?"

"You're no fun." The Sith breezed past the workbench almost like a shriveled autumn leaf. "Who destroyed this?" He held up the cracked datapad, pinching it between his thumb and index finger.

"It met with an accident."

"Oh, Pada—"

"Atton. His name is Atton, as you damn well know," Jay said, her voice stern. "I'll fix it later, when I work on HK-47. You were supposed to fix him, you know."

Revan dropped the pad on top of the plasma torch, and the thing shattered. "I have another datapad sitting around somewhere. Don't bother, Jane." And at that, he rushed toward his own quarters.

"That went better than expected," she said when the Sith's presence no longer fouled the air like a rotting corpse.


	26. Almost

Hrax drew slowly closer each day as he trained with his Jay and kept her warm at night. The droids seemed to be minimal noise once the orange slagheap stalked off to lurk in Revan's side of the ship and T-3 went about repairing or whatever else the tin can did to occupy its time. As she trained him, he found the urge to use the Force slowly lessened, until, on landing day, he felt almost in control again. Almost. The mirror hadn't proved as much a friend to him as it had the first day he'd sworn he'd return to the light. Jay didn't seem to care much—she beamed with as much pride as she always had—but he still thought he looked almost as old as Darth Traya. _But not as bad as Revan… Nothing looks as bad as that thing._

Jay sat beside him in her seat as the yellow planet loomed beneath them. He breathed a little easier here, for the Force ran close to clean, less tainted than it had been even after they'd left. She smiled as she stared out the window.

"It's almost normal here, isn't it? I could almost swear we were back in Republic space."

"Almost." It was always _almost_ these days, and _almost_ almost had to do.

"We did this, taught them new ways to relate to each other, and we did a decent enough job that they've kept it up."

"Pride, Jay?"

"Maybe a little. Maybe it just feels good to know that our time here hasn't been a complete waste. That somewhere, we did the right thing and that act has begun to ripple through the galaxy."

"You're not a very good Jedi, Jay."

"You think?" She reached over the center console and ruffled his hair.

"But you're better at whatever it is you do than any Jedi could ever be."

"You don't make a good Sith."

"What good is one planet, anyway?" It had been a long time since he'd understood just what the hell they were doing out there.

"It's better than _no_ planets. I'm curious to see just how much Revan wrecks this place."

The words from his own mouth left him gaping. "I don't think he can. These people chose to discard his thinking."

Aside from a silent mealtime or two, they hadn't seen the wrecked man in days, and even though one could feel his festering presence in the corner of the ship, Revan hadn't inhibited their training or their comfort for a week.

"I don't feel Revan's 'disturbance,' do you, love? I should be able to feel Bastila, but it's just silence on the surface."

"You think they killed her?"

"If they did, it would solve a lot of problems. And it might explain…"

"Explain what?" He hadn't felt the Sith's approach, and from Jay's own flinching, she hadn't either. That unnerved him more than the thought of Revan's "lover's" death.

"The Force is too steady here." She recovered far more quickly from the man's voice than he did. "Are you sure we all felt something real, and not a delusion the tainted Force brought upon us?"

"She's alive but quiet. Contained. I feel her, a dead weight in my gut."

"Your bond?"

The Sith nodded and he felt no deception from the man.

"Why can't we feel her?" he asked. "Jay should at least sense _something_."

"I don't feel her," Revan said, and the ripple of rage that shot through his words had Jay staring at him in alarm. "Not in the Force. Just here." He stabbed a fist into his lower abdomen.

"There's no hole in the Force, no emptiness," she said, her voice on the verge of trembling.

"No wounds, no. Just dead weight. Nothing like what _you_ did, Exile."

"Strange."

"Are we landing sometime today, Padawan?"

He didn't bother disputing the Sith. What was the point? "I'll think about it."

"You're worried about her, aren't you?" Jay asked.

"Why would I worry? She's stubborn and her fate is of her own doing."

"Fine. The _Sith_ equivalent of 'worry' then."

"No pity, Jane." Harsh, grating. He wished the man had decided to cover himself with his mask.

"I'm not having this argument with you all over again, schutta. I just want to make sure you're prepared for whatever we find down there. Hrax _was_ friendly, and I don't want you screwing it up."

"Capitol city of Elhar, ETA, fifteen minutes."

"Good." The Sith stalked off, leaving him alone with her for the last of the landing checks.

"Ebon Hawk," the hail came in the planet's easy half-Basic dialect. He'd picked it up quickly in the three months they'd spent there. "You are cleared to land. Sending coordinates. It's good to see your vessel again."

"Good to be coming almost home," he said, and meant it.

"Almost home," she said, and shot him a grin. "Yes, it's close enough, isn't it? It's not quite Dantooine or Coruscant, but it doesn't feel like it's trying to crush you like most of the rest of space here."

"Or the Force itself."

She stared out the window as the small streaks of blue resolved themselves into broad rivers that flowed clear through the yellow soil and brownish-red fields of tempa-grass. So little ocean here, but so much life. The Force flowed strong between the distaff half-Sith and the endless birds and tiny rodents. The people lived well enough for those trapped under a feudal lord, but they had once been sticklers for caste and wealth, and had regarded those unable to help themselves as worthless, even when fate, the land and the weather failed to provide on some small plot of land. He could almost imagine that the little girl who Jay had once helped in finding her mother had found a happy ending full of endless toys and hugs, could almost imagine that the cantina girl Jay had trained in Republic-popular dance steps had finally put enough money together to afford the husband-price of the dock cleaner she loved.

Almost.

He touched her mind for the first time in a few hours, and felt an almost contented humming. Just a faint edge to it, but close to happiness. When he looked at her through the Force, she seemed almost as bright as she had been when she first brought him back. _Almost_. She smiled as she seemed to feel his mind, though he could tell she had stopped listening again.

"It's never going to be perfect, is it, Jay?"

"Is it ever? But sometimes it's good enough. We should be thankful we can at least say that."

"And is that damned Sith down there going to mess things up?"

"I… I don't know. But we're stronger now. Maybe she'll help Revan. I don't know."

"You haven't forgiven him yet, have you?"

"Almost. Just a little more, a few more days, a little more peace."

"Which you're not going to get."

"We'll stay here until you're more stable. You're close, love, very close."

"Almost, you mean."

She grinned. "Well, yes. But it's good enough for now. The good thing about 'close enough' and 'good enough' is that they can be improved. _We_ can be improved. Force only knows I need it as much as you do."

_Almost_ almost wasn't a bad thing. At all.


	27. Aground

Revan rejoined them just as the _Hawk_'s struts touched ground. Effortlessly. As Jay tipped him a wink and grinned, he marveled at just how well he'd gotten to know the ship. He'd had issues with the thing from the moment he'd stepped foot aboard it on Peragus. Something always seemed close to falling apart, whether it was the hyperdrive, or the frame, or even a few of the control panels in medbay. He'd had trouble landing it with his usual flair for most of the time he'd traveled with Darth Traya and company, but here, once the ship had become his home and haven from the tainted planets they visited, he'd let the controls become a part of him, to flow into his body, until the catch in the hyperdrive became the rhythm of his breath, and the shudder in the panels the beat of his heart.

"You're coming with me, Jane."

"News to me," Jay said. "Are you ordering me around now, murglak?"

The Sith glowered at her, and stared at him with his inhuman, clouded eyes. "As are you, Padawan."

"Atton," Jay said. "His name is Atton."

"Whatever the locals have done to Bastila, they might do to me." Revan spoke quietly, his words devoid of menace. "Is that what you wish?"

"Force, you're an idiot," he said. "The _locals_ are friendly."

"To both of you, but not to one on the true path."

At that, Jay snickered, and then burst out laughing. "True path? Sy, you've gone mad!"

"I want HK-47 to come with us."

"Why? They speak a simple variant of Basic here that you'll pick up in a second or two, knowing your abilities."

"Defense."

"Offense, you mean," he said. "The rustbucket stays here."

"You have no say in this, Padawan."

"Sy, HK's staying put. We have enough loose cannons here without adding a homicidal droid to the mix."

The Sith growled and glared at both of them. Two weeks ago, he would have cowered at the man's deadly stare, but he'd had enough, and enough time with _her_ to lose the terror he once felt in Revan's presence.

"You're scared, aren't you?" he asked. "The great Revan, scared of a few friendly Sith on a planet."

"We've got your back, Sy, unless you do something stupid."

"I won't accept your pity!"

"Right," Jay muttered.

Revan followed them out the hatch into the deep golden afternoon, and he felt the man's trembling as if it were his own. He _listened_ and followed the strand of fear deep into his former master's mind to a place where he could feel the dead space at the end of the bond that tied Revan to Bastila as surely as he was bound to Jay. _Nothing of her is here, not even a hint of her darkness, deeper and richer than a strong caffa._ Ahead, he felt the thoughts of the customs officials, almost eager in their warmth. Jay grabbed his hand and flashed him a grin.

"It's good to be back, isn't it?"

"Could be better."

"How?"

"If the thundercloud back there was gone."

One corner of her lips shot skyward and she snickered. "I won't argue with that."

The three customs officials who greeted them with a circular hand-gesture over the heart still wore the same droopy flowing tunics and pants that they'd learned were uniforms. Yet they wore them with pride, as if they were every bit as full of spit and polish as the tailored tunic he'd once worn in Revan's service. It had taken him almost the full three months of their first visit for him to adapt to the half-Siths' appearances: the red skin, close to blood colored, unnerved him, and their piercing green or black eyes made him imagine the demons in the stories his dad had told him as a child. The thick black hair and bushy eyebrows that were typical even on the women of this species only completed their menacing appearance. But appearances were more than deceptive out here; a few favors and several hundred _cred-isk-a_ in tithes and these people were putty in his and Jay's hands.

"Salu-ya! Greetings, _shekola_! Welcome back!" one said.

"Esh-salu-ta!" Jay said, and bowed after she circled her own chest. "It's good to be back."

"Salu-ya, and greetings, _shekosa_. Your wi-fes looks as bright as ever, but you seem to have fallen on hard times." He remembered this Sith, Yakoz, from Jay's first cantina dance.

"Esh-salu-ta! Harder than I wanted, yeah."

"Stay with _shekola_—she'll lead you back."

"They read you that well," Revan said. "Interesting."

"This one looks like the woman we captured, _shekola_. I assume that's why you're here."

"Unfortunately," he said. "Not my first choice, but we've got _company_ now."

"A-she-sekola," Revan said. "They're calling you 'exalted one,' Jane. You have Bastila?"

"We've been holding her as much for her own safety as ours. Do we need to do the same to you?"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Cut it out, Sy. Do you have a place for us, Yakoz? I'd like to leave the _Hawk _in your custody for a few days while we relax and maybe make a few cred-isk-a."

"Always the cred-isk-a. Running a ship's an expensive proposition."

"As is keeping at a reasonable temperature," he said, and shot a glare at Revan.

"_Shekola_, _shekosa_, the hotel has a few rooms left. Even if it did not, we'd clear one for you."

"Exalted ones. Hmph. Take us to Bastila."

"I'll see you all settled first," a second customs official said. "Fer Yakoz has other matters to attend to. Salu-ya! I am Verkal, Fer Yakoz' second in command."

"Esh-salu-ta!" he said just off of Jay's own voice. "How many cred-isk-a are we talking here for this room?"

"Take them from you, _shekosa_? No. I sense you and _shekola_ need a separate place from this _skreketh_."

"A-skre-eshketh. 'Darkest of dark.' I think I like this man."

"You can still like things when you're so fallen, schutta? Unbelievable." She let out that defiant laugh he'd fallen head over heels for on Korriban.

"Such words are not intended as a compliment, _skreketh_."


	28. Breaking

Not much had changed here so far as Atton could see, though part of him still flinched at the primitive feel of the place. Just like many of the planets they'd visited in the Unknown Regions, this one eschewed technology almost completely, but for the occasional slave-driving droid and enforcement cannons. Cargo ships left the spaceport, but only sporadically. Trade, but for the consistent loads of tempa-grass bound for Hasa'ka, a nearby livestock producer, seemed only minimal in on this world. What these worlds excelled in was _magic_, and what they called "necromancy," though none knew how to raise the dead. The strongest in the arts rose to the top of the hierarchy of their respective planets, and jostled for dominance in triennial meetings on the core Sith world. He had heard rumors of secret technology being developed on the core world in quiet whispers in Hrax's cantina, but he'd had a hard time believing them, spoken as they were in a baked mud dome that barely stood twice his height.

His first thought when they'd landed on this backwater world two years ago was that dirt behaved like sand, forming itself into endless dunes of filth and dust. Only as they had approached the nearest of the mounds had he realized that these filth-piles had transparent windows carved into them. Outside of Custom-ash-kesah, as he'd eventually learned the main port office had been named, he'd only seen computers in five places, inside the most expensive rooms of the inn attached to the cantina; the Necromancer's palace; the Magister-ash-kesah where the law enforcement officers were housed; and two mysterious "ash-kesah" within Elhar that he hadn't understood the purpose of, even when Yakoz had tried to explain it to them. The Force was everywhere here, and none of the Sith he'd met had been weaker than blondie in using it. _Shekosa, who needs computers when you can feel the Universe within?_

"Verkal-oska," Jay said, "Tell me what happened with Bastila. Sy sensed something, and Atton and I shared a vision of her, but we couldn't understand why."

"Ah, _shekola_, it is a stupid tale, and one for the lowest of low. She landed in a tiny ship, barely large enough for one, and when the greeters sought her, she slew them with her light-sword."

"Why?" he asked. _What kind of idiot do you have to be to kill for no reason… Oh._

"_Skrekesh-al-tah_. Of deep black, but not of power."

"Sorry?" Jay furrowed her brows.

"She wasn't strong enough, the little fool. She wasn't prepared for the Force, and it ate at her." Revan snickered. "Serves her right. Her ego was always a little too large for the limited power she wields."

"And you're so different, Sy?"

"I feel balance here, or something close. The Force breathes clear within, no matter how the users here try to bend it to their wills."

"Well, close to 'clear,'" Jay said. "And it does only because the users have changed the way they act and what they hold within hearts. Remember your old objective in this 'war?' Verkal-oska, your people do well here."

"I know, _shekola_. Your 'friend,' the killer, moved her way through the streets, sweeping her weapon about. You know most carry no arms, and only the droids can stun and whip, so they fell as grass-chaff to her, even though many tried to halt her with the 'mancy. She _shielded_ herself, somehow."

"Republic technology," he said. "They've got devices that help troops resist the Force. You can thank the Jedi for that; they used them in the Civil War to stop our troops. Eventually we got smart enough to use it ourselves against _them_."

"Technology is for the weak, _shekosa_."

"Maybe so, but you've got a lot of dead bodies to bury because you're 'strong.'"

"Hm."

"She used her Battle Meditation," Revan said.

"Battle Meditation, _skreketh_?"

"Jedi 'mancy, as you'd call it. She weakens her enemies by manipulating their wills through the Force."

"Then it is good the droids overcame her. This bodes ill, _shekosa_, _shekola_."

"No kidding." He'd never known any of the half-Sith to state the obvious. In fact, he usually found them far more cryptic than even Darth Traya had been.

"You will release her to us, won't you, Verkal-oska? She can't be detained forever, and if…"

"She has plunged deep into the dark madness, _shekola_. I fear even you can't bring her to rightness."

"Sy needs her. The bonds on him…"

"Yes, I feel the ties, and see how their strands entangle him. Be careful, _shekola_. Something is wrong within both of them, and I fear you will come to ruin."

"I haven't killed her," Revan said.

"And I sense you could not kill _shekola_, dark one. But there is more than one way to ruin, and ruin is not always fatal."

"I don't feel her except as a faint thrum of life in my belly. What did you do to my little fool?"

The largest mound, the inn, loomed over them, and all of the mounds that surrounded it. Eight stories it "towered," though nothing seemed anywhere close to matching the height of the lowest factory buildings on the edges of Nal Hutta, where slaves labored to mill the spice. Perspective changed everything—insect-nest domes made a tiny building look like a looming Nar Shaddaa tower. _The ability to change perspective,_ Jay once told him in training, _is essential if you're to understand the Force. Look at the small changes within, and imagine them spreading outward to the rest of life. We did this on Nar Shaddaa, on Dantooine, on Telos, and even on Korriban. Kreia told me once that even the smallest act sends ripples, and the large acts can be felt for centuries or millennia. Make sure they're the correct acts, love._

"We've done nothing to her, _skreketh_, but to bind her in a field of nullity that taxes all of us. Her life cannot be heard, and her power cannot be used for 'mancy. But she lives and breathes, even as her bondage drains our power from us."

"Force nullity. I thought I'd learned _all_ of the secrets here." Revan shook his withered head. "I have more to learn."

"And we will not teach you. So long as _shekola_ and _shekosa_ travel with you, we will not risk teaching them, either."

"Good," Jay said. "I don't want you risking yourselves on our behalf. Sy's enough of a worry as it is."

"_Shekola_ speaks from wisdom, and from the brightness in her heart."

Verkal opened the door with a faint tremor in the Force, and Atton had learned the hard way that you couldn't just use the knob. The doors had been crafted of baked clay as deep as a man's forearm and had more heft behind them than even HK could move. _If she doesn't let me use the Force, I'm a damned prisoner here!_ But he wasn't about to object in front of Revan. He knew the carved-mud walls almost as well as the scarring of the rough metal of his old container-apartment on Nar Shaddaa; he'd stared at them long enough in near-fascination. They spoke of ancient Sith legends of creation, of war, of blending with cast-off Jedi a thousand years before, and they called out in the language of the carvings of Korriban, oppressive and venial even in their grandness. He both admired them and loathed them for what they were, and now, through darker eyes, he felt the song of the ancient ways. _Come, learn power,_ the hall-end carving of Githraz the Enlightener, Sith god of wisdom, cried out. _ Surrender and let it flow through you._

"Go here," Verkal said to Revan as he pushed open a door carved with Aska-lash the Darkness-Bringer. "Rest, and we will take you to _Skrekesh-al-tah_ tomorrow."

"That's not acceptable." He heard the catch in Revan's voice and shuddered. He reached out and touched a widening fissure in the man's thoughts, something he knew Jay felt as well from her sudden paleness.

"It will have to be, _skreketh_. She will slay all if we release her now. I feel her violence."

"Verkal-oska, you can't let her go sooner?"

"No, not until the ties upon _skreketh_ ease."

"Oh. I must meditate then."

"_Shekola_, it is not your tie I fear. _Skrekesh-al-tah_ weakens, but only slowly. She will slay more if we ease her bonds."

"Fine, we'll wait, and she'll go mad," Revan muttered, and slammed the door in Jay's face.

"She is already mad," the half-Sith said.

On the top floor, Verkal shoved open a door leading to one of the most luxurious quarters he'd seen on the planet's surface. A sumptuous bed of woven burgundy silk spread out over half its length and lay almost oppressed beneath a heavy canopy of deep blue canvas, woven with wavy lines that reminded him of the rivers they'd seen on landing. Heavy tufted carpet soothed his feet, and the smooth gilded walls eased the pull of the hallway carvings.

"No, this is too much!" Jay had been just as horrified at her own Da's apartments on Coruscant.

"You brought us light and new ways of speaking to the other, friends. This is the least we can do to repay you."

"Thanks," he said. "This works well enough for me. It's quiet here."

"_Shekosa_, you will need that quiet in the days to come. I _feel_ it, just as I felt the pull of the ancient ways upon you."

"Thank you," Jay said, her voice subdued. He felt the touch of her mind on his and he knew she felt it as well. "I…"

"If we can make your return easier, _shekosa_, and ease your burden, _shekola_, we will do whatever we must."

He circled his heart with feeling and felt the warmth radiating from the half-Sith. He looked through the Force at his own hand, then to the Sith, who warmed him with his gentle blue-grey. A little lighter, a little less pink. But not enough, and, he sensed, not enough for the morrow.


	29. Chained

It wasn't until Verkal closed the door behind him that the itching began. First, it burrowed under his skin and then it spread to his fingertips, his gut, his mind until he had to walk, to work his way up and down the room, faster and faster until his breath came short. He couldn't talk to her as she sat staring at him amidst the ripples of silk that spread out beneath her. She'd settled in to meditate, but he sensed her own disturbance as strong as the tickling inside that he swore would drive him insane. _Talk, Jay, say something! Anything!_ But she waited, silent, unperturbed, until the words came rushing out of him.

"Damn it! I'm a prisoner again, and you won't let me use the Force to break free. Why, Jay? Why did you tie me up here and keep me from using what you showed me? I feel it in me, chewing away, and you let me…"

"Atton, _see_."

Pinkish-grey, and she, deep and electric, soft and warm on top of endless burgundy. The deep color of Revan's madness.

"You won't let me use the Force and I'm stuck here in this room unless you release me."

"No one is stopping you, love."

"You said I can't."

"I _suggested_ you don't. It's not the same thing."

"I… You want me as your slave, tied down. Chained."

"Well, that could be fun… Come here—be with me."

"Jedi chain you with your own mind. I need your permission to leave."

"So go, if you want. I'll open the door for you."

"Don't you get it? I'm stuck at your whim. I can only come and go if you allow me to."

"We can go back to the _Hawk_ if you really want to." The door swung open almost to spite him.

"I don't… I can't. Force, you're impossible, Jay."

"Tell me what you want, love, or come here. Meditate, or make love, or whatever you want."

"It isn't what I _want_, it's what I _need_. I need to be free to leave if I want."

"You _are_ free. I'm doing nothing to you. You're doing all this to yourself."

"You sound like Darth Traya."

"What?"

"Read me."

"You're sure about this? Anyway, the door's open, and I think we can keep it open if it's bugging you so much. We're the only ones up here."

"Just do it!" He hadn't meant the words to come out so furious, with a snarl that made him recoil even more than she did.

"Whatever you want."

He felt the flicker of her mind on his, and he _remembered_.

_The only one holding you here is __**you**__, and let me show you why…_

"Tell me, love, do you want to improve and return to yourself? Or to fall down into Revan's madness? The choice is yours. I'm here to help you, nothing more."

"I want… I want you, Jay. I want to protect you however I can, to be with you. I want what we had…"

"Have."

"Whatever."

"Then you know what you have to do. The choice to use the Force has always been yours. It might feel binding now, and it might be easier to blame me for the consequences of your choice, but the only 'chains' are the ones you choose. Just remember how it was to be uncontrolled with the darkness in you. Did it free you?"

"No. But the door…"

"Will stay open if you want. The door is nothing more than a symbol of your own choice. Your own chains are always in your mind." She gave him a small smile, but he sensed she wasn't really teasing him.

"Damned Jedi—always messing with your head!"

"I'm not a Jedi. The Order made sure of that."

"You just can't take a joke, can you?" He forced a smile, even if he really hadn't been joking.

"Just come here, love. Hold me. Let me help you."

The itch lessened just enough as he basked in their bond and in the feel of her surrounding him that he stopped trembling. His hand felt _real_ in her constantly moving hair, and the tickle of individual bits against the back of his hand made him forget his twitching for a moment or two. He pressed his nose against the crown of her head, and let the scent of her hair bring him back to her first tentative embrace on Nar Shaddaa, when he told her of his past. She'd survived him so far and the onslaught of his memories. This must have been nothing to her after all he'd put her through. _Why am I like this? What am I doing wrong? This shouldn't be harder…_

"I was fine on the _Hawk_, Jay. What's wrong with this place? Why is it so hard here? The Force isn't as corrupted."

"You felt something in the hallway. I felt it in you—some kind of pull. What happened?"

"The carvings in the wall feel strange. They want me to surrender to the darkness. To seek power." Her eyes widened as they met his, and he wondered just how crazy he might sound.

"Verkal chose this room for that reason, love. The walls carry the impressions of those who worked on them, both slave and master, and the power and misery echoes still. Maybe they'll fade as the Force lightens, but I think traces will always remain."

"_What_ reason?"

"This room was designed for meditation and cleansing. For the ancient visiting Masters who sought the Force in the purest to grow their power. The impressions here are of contemplation."

"Why can't I feel this?"

"You just have to listen closer, and trust your perceptions. But I know you felt some of it when you first entered."

"I'm not doing so well in coming back, am I? Be honest."

"You're fine. Bastila's acts echo here and resonate everywhere. Revan might not have felt the madness she spread, but I think you do, even if you don't know what it is."

"_Revan_ can't feel it? I thought he was the strongest dark Jedi our space ever produced."

"The bond is a blindness, I think. Or maybe her madness has dulled his perceptions even with her 'nulled.' His own insanity hasn't helped things, and I'm sure the bond I have with him handicaps him further."

"And here I thought I was the prisoner. Maybe Darth Traya was right: I am a fool."

She grinned. "Maybe a little bit. Or maybe not."

"I don't feel Revan either."

"Nor do I. You saw the carving on Revan's door, didn't you? It was also Verkal's choice—a room where a slave was once sacrificed to Aska-lash to bind the darkness to the inn. It's a warding room, a place where darkness is contained and sealed within."

"Warding. Nullification. 'Mancy."

"What about them?"

"Jedi don't know much about the Force, do they?"

"Not these ways. Not the ancient reliance upon it before the fledgling Republic's technology and medicine replaced the divining the old dark Sith used. But I don't want to know about it. You've seen what it's led to and what we have to fight."

"Shutting out knowledge doesn't seem like the Jedi way. Don't your Masters learn this stuff?"

"There's a whole huge store of knowledge the Jedi consider forbidden, including most dark side techniques. Kreia dabbled, as did Revan and Atris, and you saw what happened to them. This knowledge, beyond the techniques used to combat it should stay here."

"You don't want to learn? You don't want that power? Even if it helps us?"

"No. I didn't even want the Force reawakened in me when we were on Peragus. But beyond that, do you think I have the wisdom to use any of it? I'll say this for these half-Sith: they use the techniques with relative restraint. I've always been a little cavalier with using the Force, and this would just be another temptation where I don't need it."

"If anyone has the wisdom, you do."

"No, I don't. Just as I didn't have the fortitude to listen to _all_ Kreia tried to teach me. It's the only thing that's kept me sane."

"You? Sane?" He smiled and hoped he didn't sound too incredulous.

"I'm not the one thinking he's imprisoned for no reason."

"Hey!"

"Just in case you forgot, I love you, fool."

"Close the door." He pushed her back onto the covers.

"You sure about that?"

"I don't want that crazy poodoo magic sneaking in, or Revan while I…"

"You what?"

"Show you what's good about closed doors."


	30. Reunion

"Irvesh-oska, you're willing to release her?"

"For you, _shekola_. And for _shekosa_, if he wishes it. _Skreketh_ worries me."

"You're not the only one," he muttered. "If Jay wants it, I'll agree, but only for her."

"_Shekola_ weaves us all tight to her will."

He waited for her inevitable protest, as sure as never-ending wave of Exchange thugs on Nar Shaddaa, and looked forward to the equally inevitable flush of crimson on her cheeks. Irvesh, Second Magister, sensed it also, and he watched the Sith's narrow lips spread slightly in anticipation. Revan stared off into nothing, as if mesmerized by a half-heard cantina ditty. He took a short dive into the old man's mind and recoiled at the wave of hatred for the Magister. _He's releasing her, murglak. You think you'd be happy_.

"But… I…"

"_Shekola_'s bond is of friendship. Only fools turn that aside." He shot a black look at Revan. "If you both will it, the black one waits."

"Bastila." He felt a wave of feeling from Revan just as tangled as the one he'd gotten from Jay after she'd tried to redeem him. Longing, passion, but not love. A wish to sip from her power, the desire to exploit it, and disgust at her actions.

_Disgust? I don't believe it._

Revan's mind felt like a bludgeon as the man invaded his. _Yes, disgust, Padawan. She never used to be that stupid._

"Why, Sy? _You_ were," Jay said. "On every planet for the last several months, you've been just as brutal."

"I had an _objective_, Jane."

"To force my fall and Jay's," he said. "Some objective."

"Jane's too stubborn for my own good."

"Good job with that, by the way. You did just as well on Liresk, besom."

Two planets ago, and endless carnage which he'd participated in, and enjoyed. He still felt a faint flicker of excitement as he watched the Necromancer fall beneath his blade again. And after the excitement came the flash of shame again as he met her horrified eyes in memory.

_Cut it out, love. Just stop it. You're wide open after you touched his mind._

"Ah, Mand'oa," Revan said. "That language never gets old."

He'd forgotten just how cramped and low the halls of the Magister-ash-kesah were, and how they closed in tighter than a force cage. Waves of despair rolled from the walls and lodged themselves deep in his gut. He cringed from the impression the tortured had left all around them, and from the new madness that threatened to chip away at his limited control. _She may be "nullified," but I feel her, struggling and lost._ Jay slipped her arm around his waist and lay her head against his shoulder.

"Just breathe and _see_." But here she did little to strengthen him, and the bond felt like little more than the shadow of what it had once been.

Irvesh had none of the darkness he'd come to associate with the Sith, nor had the Magister begun to embrace Jay's light. _Neutral. Grey._ The greyness bothered him more than a clear pronounced color; the man clearly committed to nothing, either light or dark. You couldn't predict what people like that would do next: cuddle a small child, or cast lightning at an unarmed prisoner. _You're an idiot, Rand. He's a lot closer to the light than you are. _Jay looked up at him, her eyes crinkled in amusement. _Turn his shade of grey, and the Force will be safe again._

"That's my goal?" he whispered to her as Revan glared at them both.

"A start, yes. Just keep yourself under control, and it'll happen soon enough."

"_Shekosa_ thinks strange thoughts. Thoughts in transition, I sense."

"Something like that." He _listened_ again for the phantom ticks of the _Hawk_'s power couplings.

The Sith gave him a wide smile that he'd thought they were incapable of. "_Shekosa_ need not shield himself for my sake."

"Why do you worship him?" Revan asked. "There's nothing 'exalted' about our Padawan."

"We do not worship _shekosa_; we respect him for what he has done for us. He earned our friendship, just as _shekola_ did."

Talk widened the corridors and shortened them. He'd never seen the central chamber that all passages eventually wound their way into, though he and Jay had circled the chamber a few times as they sought the correct Magister-aide to release the woman who now served as Irvesh's personal assistant. Why had she been here? He remembered a few of the details: she'd been falsely accused of murdering a corrupt official's slave. It had been part of his training in _listening_ to feel the official's mind and to ferret out his affair. The man's wife had slain her in a fit of rage, and with the Force. So much had happened on this world that he feared he'd never remember all that he and Jay had done here, and why they'd done it. But what was in that chamber? How had they bound Revan's lover? And had she destroyed anyone else there? He twitched at the waves of rage that he'd managed to block as Irvesh's praise sunk in.

"Bastila," Revan muttered again, and something in his voice made Jay's eyes mist over.

"Sy, she'll be fine. We'll do our best to help her."

"Pity." Unlike Revan's usual spitting, this word had been spoken in the flat tones of a protocol droid.

"We're not fighting about this again."

"No, we're not. She's here. Everywhere."

"In your heart, Sy, even shriveled as it is."

"Right there." The old man nodded toward the darkness at the end of the well-lit hallway.

Jay gasped beside him as Irvesh led them into the blackness that closed over them like a choking Nal Hutta mist. "You keep her in the dark? Why, Irvesh-oska? This…"

She fired up a single saber and used its glow to light their way to the balled-up shadow that cowered in the middle of nothingness. He didn't even know how he could see the shadow, because his eyes showed him nothing. Even Jay's saber seemed to be swallowed up by the rage and the madness and the bent and twisted and corrupted nullity. _Nullity. Nothingness. Why is it darker than she is? This is the darkest art…_ He felt Revan's own cringing, and then nothing as Bastila's bondage bound him and Jay just as surely.

"It's of the dark side," Jay said.

"_Shekola_, blackness for blackness, darkness for the dark. Nothing for the empty of soul."

"You can't live like this! Irvesh-oska, do you do this to all your prisoners?"

"Justice is individual," the Magister said. "Is this not just for someone who brought nothingness to fifty of our people?"

"I… Please release her."

"_Shekola_ grieves for the unforgiveable, for her own pain."

"It's just memory. Release her, I beg you!"

"From a time when _shekola_ stripped and nullified herself at _skreketh_'s betrayal. Do you agree to the release, _shekosa_?"

How the hell did the Sith know that? But he felt the answer—in nullity lay nudity, and she had been stripped every bit as bare to those who created the field as he was, and as Revan was. A rape, and a disgusting one, worse than what he'd done to her.

"I can't take much more of this, Irvesh-oska. For Jay's sake."

"Malachor." Revan's voice fell hard as the light and the Force slowly returned. "This is what you really felt, Jane? For years?"

"A decade. There's a hell of a lot less screaming here, though."

The chamber barely cleared Irvesh's head, though it hovered almost a foot over his, and almost two over Revan's and Jay's. Even as the light returned, he still couldn't make out the bundle of cloth in the center. He'd expected the room to be huge, larger than Elhar's massive, if squat, cantina, but it, including the open fresher, was half the size of the _Hawk_'s main hold. _All hallways lead to this?_ He scanned the curving walls and noticed a small, almost imperceptible line opposite the entrance. _So there's more than one of these cells_. He felt eyes on the back of his neck, and behind the supposed weakness. _Watchers. Not with cameras. With the Force. Their will keeps the prisoners in check._ That made as much sense as anything here; they'd come in through an open doorway.

"This is a spiral," Jay said. "A small galaxy of torture and pain, designed that way to remind you of your Emperor's ultimate goal. I'd underestimated the evil in this part of space, Irvesh-oska. Your people are remarkable, trying to overcome as you have."

"_Shekola_ does our people honor."

The heap hadn't moved as Revan made his way toward her. He still couldn't make out the woman in the jumble of cloth and the maelstrom of madness.

"Bastila. You're free."

Something that seemed alien to the old man stirred in him. Atton recognized it well enough, as did Jay, whose jaw flopped wide open, but Revan seemed baffled by it. _Compassion_. He sensed her half-mocking thought, but her own compassion kept her silent. _Pity, Sy?_

"Bastila."

Jay let go of him and crouched beside the man. "She's damaged, Sy. Maybe we can help her, but I… How long did you hold her like this, Irvesh-oska?"

"Three weeks."

"Force," he muttered. "Three weeks of darkness and nothing. Revan couldn't take that."

"_I_ couldn't, and I lived with what we did at Malachor," Jay said. "Bastila, awaken."

A faint stirring in the Force, but none in the cloth itself. He bristled right at Jay's back, but he couldn't figure out why he feared. Closer, he could make out hair as black as his had been blending with the putrid black robes she wore. Even _his_ nose twitched at the reek, even if she didn't stink, and the smell was nothing more than that of the corruption that ate away at her mind.

"Jane…"

"I know. I'm sorry. We'll do what we can, I promise." She put a hand on Revan's shoulder and met his eyes. They seemed a little less stormy than they had been.

He felt the shock of the gathering Force before the wave blasted all of them off their feet, but not soon enough to protect her. Jay fetched up against a wall and rubbed her head as he struggled to regain his footing. Her name was a scream of pain in his throat, but she just gave him a half-bemused stare as she stood. _I'm fine, love. Really._ To his left, the rage towered in what he'd thought was a partially redeemed man, and he felt the man ready his own twisting dose of disabling madness.

"Sy, no! Not that! She'll break forever."

She threw a stasis field at the slumped woman instead. "We need to get her out of here. Irvesh-oska, will you carry her?"

No arguments there.


	31. Entwined and Untangled

She leaned against the outer doorway and panted as he and Irvesh grunted under the stunned dark Jedi's weight. He'd never seen her quite so drained outside her memories, not even as she'd conserved her power against Vaklu's endless forces on Onderon. Revan kept an arm on hers and he sensed the man lent her a little of his strength, and without any hesitation. Something had changed in that room when she'd knelt beside him, but Atton couldn't feel just what. A bond, maybe, but even in stasis, Bastila still drowned out just about everything else with her madness. Jay glowed brighter for it, all the more beautiful to his eyes. The sight of her aura was the only thing that kept him sane.

"_Shekola_, rest. _Skrekeshtah_ won't harm anyone here."

She nodded and let the field lapse. "I'm a lot weaker than I used to be."

"Stun fields aren't meant to be maintained, Jane. You know that as well as I do, or have you forgotten _all_ of your training?" Reassurance from Revan?

"Just had to get that dig in there, didn't you?" No matter how friendly those words sounded, he trusted their corrupted companion to say the right thing as much as he trusted a Hutt not to screw you over in a deal.

"It isn't called the 'dark side' for no reason." She slipped her arm around him as he left the still-incapacitated Bastila to lean on Irvesh. "Thank the Force I can let go for a second. I…"

He felt it too as the field vanished, the stirring as her madness became consciousness.

"Master," she said.

"Bastila, why the frak…"

"The Exile. And a weakling."

"You were supposed to watch over our empire," Revan said, his voice dead calm, "but you left it to die to chase after me. You're a fool and a disappointment. I rue the day I made you my apprentice."

She struggled in Irvesh's grasp and as she broke free, he saw she'd turned even more wasted than Revan. The blue eyes in Revan's vision had become even more clouded than her master's and they blazed a sickly yellow, as if the sun had been captured behind thick blankets of Dxun mist. The hair, once so meticulously and laboriously gathered into intricate pigtails, had gone more wild than Jay's, tangled in clumps that stood out on all sides of her head. It was the lips that sickened him the most. He'd admired them at length in Revan's memory, but they had shriveled to little more than a thin black line. As she grimaced at Revan's words, he swore that her teeth had somehow become sharper, and more pointed than a human's should be. _The dark side screws with your teeth? Really?_ The grimace became a hiss, and the hiss turned to a cowering.

"Master!"

Revan glared at her. "You deserve every minute of the torture these false Sith inflicted on you for your disobedience, and I may yet add to it!"

Jay put a hand on his arm. "Stop it, Sy! She needs to regain her mind."

"Her mind is lost, Jane. All I can do now is…"

The woman cringed away from them and cowered several feet away, her eyes fixed on Jay. She groped at her side, her fingers clenched like talons.

"You! You've enslaved him! Your bond is on him, stronger…"

"Calm yourself. Remember your training, Bastila. 'There is no emotion, there is peace.'"

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion," Revan said. "Harness it! Take your punishment!"

"Sy, you're not helping anything. Look, I know you…"

The woman screamed and drew her saber, a double-blade much like the one Jay used to finish Darth Traya.

"You kept her armed," Revan said to the Magister. "Are you an idiot?"

"The ready weapon and the lack of will to take it up seemed the perfect addition to her punishment."

"Monsters," Jay muttered. "Irvesh-oska… I…"

Bastila drowned out her shriek with a louder scream in the Force and the hiss of her blade as she powered it made him cringe. He didn't think as the woman rushed at them; he found himself in front of his Jedi, both sabers on and settled firmly into the second stance of the second tier of Echani forms, legs wide, arms a barrier. _Careful, love_.

"You're not touching her!"

The Force gathered in the woman's twisted mind, whirling like a maelstrom. A charge, half-electric ran through her, and he knew it would soon take him right in the heart. A vibration, a faint energy behind him, and then he felt something coalesce around him. _Energy shield… Jay feels it too. Of course she feels it, idiot!_ She cloaked herself in the Force, immunized herself.

"Move," she whispered. "There's no need…"

He powered up his shield and wondered why it took Bastila so long to attack.

_She's mad, she's weak, and she's trying to channel her ability._

Jay shoved him aside when the lightning lanced from the dark jedi's fingertips, but an arc still hit him in the shoulder, and the impact sent him reeling. He fought his way to his feet and assessed the damage as Jay stepped forward, unarmed but intact. _Turn on your frelling sabers, Jay! She's going to slaughter you if you don't disable her!_ No pain in the shoulder—his shields had held, but he sensed they wouldn't hold much longer if the dark jedi's "Battle Meditation" kicked in.

"Bastila, we're not here to hurt you."

"You!" He'd thought it impossible for that wizened face to contort further, but she proved him wrong. The blackened line of her lips twisted into a thin knot.

"Turn your lightsaber off. You're free, and Revan's here for you."

"Leave Jane alone, little fool," Revan said. "You always had more passion than sense."

"Betrayer!" She threw a hastily-assembled and weakened field of her madness at the old man and reached into the heart of the Force shield that surrounded Jay.

"You're one to talk." Revan hadn't even tottered from her attack. "You, who left our vision and our empire to rot for your own stupidity."

"I feel _her_ all over you, in your heart, in your soul, even in the cord that connects us. She… You _love_ her still, and for that she'll die!"

Jay threw her head back and laughed long and hard. "You think I want Sy? Really? You used to be a fool stooge for the Council, and now you're a jealous, mad mess who wants to kill the wrong target."

"It doesn't matter what you want, Jay," he said. "You think she cares about that? She's insane, and she needs to be taken out if we're going to succeed."

_Stop it, love. It will be fine, you'll see._

The Force cloak vanished as quickly as Jay had assembled it.

"He betrayed me and you'll both _suffer_."

"Suffering brings you nothing. No peace, no sanity. Not even the right revenge. You have to…"

_Dammit, Jay! Don't you feel it? Don't you know?_ He felt it and he reached inside to let out the smallest bit of his power, just enough to flip himself in front of the dark jedi's rising hands. He didn't know what he planned to do next, just that he was going to stop the gathering storm from hitting her, even if it cost him another fall. As Bastila channeled electricity, he felt the urge to let out his own power take him over. _No, you're going to protect Jay right this time!_ He stuffed the urge deep down, but as he felt the strength of the dark jedi's next attack, he _reacted_, and almost unconsciously shaped a thick barrier around the mad woman. He tightened it just as the power burst from her fingers, and trapped her in the same kind of stasis field Jay had used upon her, even if it drained him more than shrouding her in a blanket of madness. He pulled the saber from her fingers with the Force and powered it down.

"Atton."

_Figures she'd be disappointed in me_. Except he felt none of that from her. He twitched, preparing for words of rage, even though she'd never screamed at him.

"Here, Jay." He handed her the weapon. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You did well. Better than I'd hoped, in fact."

"You saw something again, didn't you?" He sensed she'd tested him somehow, though he had no idea what the test was. That she didn't recoil from him or stare at him in horror made him think he'd passed.

"Mm. Maybe." She slipped an arm around him and grinned. "Verkal picked an interesting room for us."

"Cryptic as always. Care to enlighten me, _Master_?"

"Take a look at yourself."

Revan muttered something unintelligible as Bastila's re-awakening shook the Force. Jay released him just as the woman's body stirred, and handed the dark jedi's lightsaber to Revan.

"Can I trust you not to give this back to her until her mind returns?"

The old man grimaced. "I'm not eager to have my former apprentice's blade at my throat when I sleep, believe me, Jane."

It took Revan's hoarse laugh to make him realize that the man had been smiling. A withered Sith smiling at a vibrant, glowing Jedi, an insane woman, and what the hell was he? _Take a look at yourself._ Fine. He summoned a little of the Force. Grey, with just the faintest tinge of pink. But mostly grey, so much so that he had to strain his mind to see the pink.

"You should still stay away from the Force for a few days, but…"

"But what?" The awakening dark jedi's madness no longer tugged at him quite the same way.

"But I think you'll be fine."

"I disobeyed you."

"You're my husband, not my 'apprentice.' I'm not a Sith. Your instincts and your will guided you along the right course."

He heard signs of struggle behind him, and distinctly female hissing, but he didn't care. He stared deep into those sapphire eyes and felt her quiet pride. He slipped his arms around her and grinned.

"Did I tell you today that I love you, Jay?"

"Not that I remember."

"That's what I thought."

She waited, and he waited with her until he felt her surge of annoyance.

"You're impossible, flyboy!"

"And I'm guessing you wouldn't want it any other way."

He only faintly heard male cursing in multiple languages, and the shriek of a madwoman behind as his lips settled on hers. But he did feel the Magister looking on in approval, and felt the man's smile through the Force. _And Jay called him a monster. Maybe we're all more than the sum of our actions._ Her lips tangled with his, and her mind surrounded him in the bright light that insisted on bursting from her every pore. _I'll be that again for you, Jay. No matter what it takes._


	32. Cantina Rats

Yakoz hadn't changed his habits since he and Jay had left Hrax the first time. A year and a half of cantina crawling after his shift at the port, and it seemed he still hadn't found the woman he sought. Irvesh had kept Revan and Bastila under an informal guard until he'd settled them in the "warding room." Just the name of it gave him the creeps, but Bastila's cold glare that stayed affixed to Jay unnerved him even more. Only Yakoz' friendly half-Sith smile brought him comfort when Irvesh had escorted them both inside the cantina. _Cred-isk-a, shekola? The cantina lord has missed those you generate._

"_Shekosa_ has changed," the "Fer" said as they waited for the performance to start. "I hope your room was to your liking. Verkal thought it might aid you."

"Maybe it was the room. But I really think it was the people and the company."

"_Shekosa_ is too kind."

"I mostly meant Jay." He nudged the man on the arm.

"Jedi humor?"

"Like I'm a Jedi. Jay claims she isn't either."

"Yet you both bear their aura. When I saw you leave the ship, _shekosa_, I feared for you, and yet I sensed you were on _shekola_'s path once more. _Skreketh_… why do you travel with such a beast?"

"He wasn't always. You've felt more than Jay's aura—I sense her bond on you. She and Revan have _history_, and not in a good way. He loathed her because he loved her and she didn't return the favor. She hated him for being a brute and falling during the Mandalorian Wars. Well, that's the short version, anyway. But we came to help him fight."

"You have mentioned this before—a 'war of belief.'"

"Yeah. And it hasn't been going so well lately. Jay's done her best to keep us on track, but I haven't exactly been helping her. You know this 'war' was Revan's idea, right? And in the course of fighting it, his hatred for her twisted their bond backward when they should have been working together."

"Then no fault is intended, and _skreketh_ is a prisoner of his own ideals."

"I'll just let you believe that. The truth's a lot more complicated, and I'm not a big fan of 'complicated.'"

"How is it 'complicated,' _shekosa_?"

"Revan uses people. He wanted to take control of both of us, and screwed up his own damned war to do it. He got me pretty good when he forced a battle that nearly killed Jay. And he took me down a lot lower than that. I _hurt_ her. I…"

"It is _our_ way to view the living that way. All life uses other life as tools. _Shekola_ seems to live differently, and you did once."

"All life does where I'm from too. Every last one. Even the Jedi—well, all of them except two, and one I'm not sure about."

"_Shekola_?"

"Yeah, and I don't know why. She took this war on herself, and she's the only one still fighting it right…"

"I feel the traces of your act upon you, _shekosa_, and that you suffer for it still, even if she wishes you did not. The wound you believe you inflicted upon her is not the one that has left her marked."

"You're right, it's not, and she did what she did for _me_. She suffered for _me_. What hurt her was… I fell because I failed her, because I couldn't stand to see her slumped and charred on the ground, because _I_ wasn't the one hit. She said, 'If you fall, I want it to be your choice.'"

"_Shekola_ loves you and she cannot bear to be the source of her suffering."

"Yeah. I don't deserve her or that love."

"She believes you do. Is that faith not enough for _shekosa_? Women who love see invisible strengths we miss."

"You don't have a woman, so how would you know?"

"You believe I am as innocent as _skreketh_? I have known a woman or two in ways that are still new to you, as one who still learns the 'mancy."

He couldn't quite look at this Sith the same way. He'd always thought of them as exotic, mystical creatures, as steeped in the Force as the Miraluka had been, and perhaps even more incomprehensible, no matter how they'd leered at Jay during one of her "dances." Not that the Sith version of "dancing" seemed anything close to its Republic equivalent. But he sat talking about love and women and the Force with a cantina-rat who sought conquest and love with equal zeal. _Give him a pazaak deck and he'd be at home on Nar Shaddaa._

"You ever play cards, Yakoz-oshka?"

"Cards are of little value when one can read one's opponent, _shekosa_." If they ever made it back to Republic space, he'd have to give the pazaak tables another whirl.

"So why no women?"

"_Shekola_ ruined them for me."

"I think she does that to everybody. Well, everybody with a brain."

Yakoz clenched his mug of grass liquor and forced it to his mouth. The Sith took a long swig before he spoke again.

"I would have expected _shekosa_ to put a blade to my throat for speaking so." He smiled again. "You are back on _shekola's_ path again, it seems."

"Trying. Besides, I don't blame someone for having eyes that work."

"If _shekosa_ pardons, she is not much for the eyes."

Now _that_ made him twitch. "Yeah? How so?"

"She's ghost-pale. Almost as white as you are, _shekosa_. Her hair glares too much in the light. _Shekola_ lures through the heart."

That was almost worse. "You're not going to meet a Sith version of Jay here. She only likes them as sources of information and cred-isk-a. Why don't you find one through the Force?"

"The 'mancy is a dangerous tool for such things, as you likely know. If life wishes it, I will meet her, much as I sense you met _shekola_."

"You're saying the Force brought us together? I used to think that, but after Revan, I'm not so sure. If so, the Force is a sadistic bastard, the way it keeps torturing her."

"What makes her smile is torture? You Jedi take a strange view of what life wills you."

"Happy, hunh? Maybe. You know, three years ago, I never would have thought I'd be sitting in a far-away cantina in an unknown sector of space talking about women and the Force with a born and bred Sith while I waited for my _wife_ to dance."

"Your Force wills many things, _shekosa_. It wills long journeys and love and friendship."

"Stop calling me that, will you? I'm not 'exalted.' I'm Atton. That's it. Nothing else."

"_Skreketh_ gave you an incorrect sense of the word as we understand it. It is a token of respect, and of friendship. You earned the name, as did _shekola_. Long ago, and in the powerful worlds, the word it came from meant such, but we've been forgotten as our Lord has over the centuries."

"Maybe. But Jay earned it, not me."

"Most would say otherwise, _Atton_, if you would disavow honor and friendship."

"Not the friendship, but the honor, yeah. Back where I come from, friends call each other only by their first names, Yakoz."

The Sith smiled at him. "If honoring your customs brings you comfort, I am only too happy to do so, Atton."

He raised his own cup of reeking, fermented grass juice. "A to—"

"I sense the weakling," said that hissing female voice.

"Yes, there awaits the Padawan with his Sith friend."

Great, just great.

"These are not _Sith_. They are weak and pursue a false path."

"_Skrekeshtah_ brings ignorance with her," Yakoz said. "Life wills strange things, Atton."

"You can say that again. We'll just have to have that toast later, then."

"Toast?" The Sith looked at him sidewise. "Ah, but there will be time for words once your wi-fes finishes."

Whether he or Yakoz liked it or not, the two shriveled things took the remaining chairs at their tiny table. Revan's gaze remained affixed to Bastila's lips, though what the man saw in their twisted scowl, Atton couldn't even begin to guess. What he'd seen of Jay's corruption made him wonder how he'd have reacted if she had been the one to fall. He shuddered at the memory, at the greyness of her flesh and the whitening of her hair, the clouding of her eyes and the blackness of her lips. Did love truly transcend such differences? He didn't know if his could, though Jay's had somehow. _Women are crazy_.

"That Irvesh told me that our Jane puts on quite the show."

"That she does, _skreketh_. It is a wonder almost beyond beholding. She looks, even, to be much as the ancient holos of Aska-lash, she who brought the darkness only after her light was extinguished. To see such light here is a luxury."

"And you let her flaunt herself up on the stage?" Revan asked. "Any decent husband keeps his wife covered."

"Flaunt? Guess you haven't seen this 'dance,' then, schutta. I've never seen anything _less_ erotic in my life."

"Oh, _shekola_ captures the nature of the woman better than one might think." The Sith smirked. "Many have been the proposals Mishol has kept from you both."

"Wait, what?"

"_Shekola_ is not much to my liking, but many enjoy the taste of the exotic."

"So, your beloved is a hussy, Master," Bastila said. "I should have known that the weak of will attract the weak in control."

"Silence, apprentice!"


	33. Creation

All heads turned at Revan's words. Atton had missed the faint lowering of the seating area's lights and the growing silence with the invasion of Bastila's madness. An electric current flowed about the room and rose as the lights dimmed further. He slumped deep into his chair as the current stopped and the eyes followed. Did that Sith have to mess up everything? He wished the performance would just start so he could breathe a little. He'd seen enough Sith action, even on this world, that he didn't exactly look forward to being the center of attention.

And then _she_ appeared, brighter than the lights that streamed down on the stage. He knew that they all saw her as he did, illuminated, blooming, and bursting with an almost uncanny health even as shrouded as she was in heavy velvet robes. The cantina lord hadn't seen fit to change the color or the cut, and their deep purple made him think she'd been bruised from head to toe. _Even the clothes are dark here._ She reached for the sky and he felt the heavens bless her when she smiled. She curved her arms around an invisible sphere and raised it up to the heavens as a slow, almost languorous thrumming pulsed beneath her feet. She spun, and the robes spiraled around her, a small galaxy embraced by her light. She swayed back and forth almost as a drunkard, as if the world she cradled intoxicated her. He'd seen this performance enough times that he should have known her every last movement, but this time, she seemed to draw more of herself into the character she played. _She's seen too much of the dark side. _He shuddered.

The beat became more frantic, and her robes launched into orbit around her as she whirled. He'd tried to shield his thoughts, but he could still feel Revan's fixation on the legs beneath, even though the fitted pants she wore blended into the shadow of her robes. Bastila shifted in her seat, her eyes affixed to her master, while Yakoz watched Jay with a smile.

"She outdoes herself this evening, Atton," he said in a whisper.

"She's lived this." A nod from the Sith. "Today's been hard on her."

She clutched at the globe, her eyes fierce, and slipped it behind her back as a shadow loomed beside her. He cringed at the scream that surrounded them, a wail of grief and challenge, broadcast from the same hidden speakers as the thrumming beat. She drew herself up and faced the shadow as the lights shifted away from her and onto the dark presence.

"This is your legend, Sith. The legend of Aska-lash and her fall." Revan didn't bother to phrase it as a question.

"_Skreketh_ is not as ignorant as he seems, then. Perhaps you should transmit some of that knowledge to your apprentice."

Revan narrowed his eyes. "Aska-lash was a guardian of one of the core Sith worlds, one of the last of those who followed the light thousands of years ago."

The shadow coalesced into a towering figure draped in endless black velvet that pooled about it on the ground. Beneath the figure's hood, he could almost make out the tip of a sharp nose, though deep shadow shrouded the rest of its features. Twin sleeves seemed to rise from its mass, and he sensed hands even if the sleeves drooped over them. Jay stood tall, a single line of light against the dark mass of fabric and evil. The lights came upon her again, though she'd held the stage and most of the eyes with her own aura. She gestured toward the heavens and fell to her knees. He felt her plea in him as her eyes closed and her arms stretched higher.

"She prayed for guidance," Revan said, "from the older, forgotten gods when Githraz, the first Dark Lord, threatened her world with his power and his soldiers. But the gods ignored her."

She lowered her head to the ground and her back rippled as if she were convulsing. _Just like when you abandoned her on the floor in the cockpit._ A chill slowly made its way down his spine until it lodged in the small of his back. He'd wondered back in their room whether his fall might make him see her performance as the Sith did, but instead, he found it wrenching, as if beauty itself had been slaughtered by the darkened force. She forced herself to her feet and with one last pleading look to the heavens, she crouched and leaned forward, her hair a golden chaos in the light. She flung her arms wide and shot a backward glance at the world only she could see. She clenched her fists and glared at her challenger.

"With a tiny army, and no support from her gods, she gathered all together to make a single suicidal assault on Githraz as his ships landed," Revan said.

"Weakness," Bastila said.

"It's a legend. It doesn't have to make sense," he said.

"It is part legend, part truth," the Sith said.

She launched herself toward the shadow, though she did nothing to stagger it. He remembered the days when she'd practice the move, and she'd spent hours learning how to shift her weight just so that the small gravity stabilizers the man wore would accept it, and even more hours taking pushes from her companion. _No wonder they don't perform this piece often at the cantinas, _she'd said with a wry grin as he'd slathered bacta all over her bruises. _It hurts more than that duel with Bralor._ The ripple in the Force before the figure threw Jay still made him wince. She landed on her back at the edge of the stage, and as the figure closed in, she curled herself tight, her head tucked between her knees.

"Aska-lash knew nothing of the Force, just combat, and she was no match for Githraz, who attacked her with every Force technique he'd learned."

The robed figure loomed over her as she seemingly cowered, and as it bent over, its hand extended, she rolled toward it and gripped its legs, if such a nightmare could have such things. He'd never understood just how she managed the next move, but she forced herself into a headstand and gripped the thing's hidden neck between her thighs. Maybe that was the source of her popularity in this cantina. The thing trapped her hands between his feet and pushed her off with the Force. She landed face-down, and with her hands secured, she seemed to beg its pardon for her audacity. She struggled, but couldn't free herself. She remained prone until the creature grabbed her by the collar of her robes and hoisted her before him. _Stabilizers, a handy stage trick._ It cast her down into a heap at its feet, and she slumped, her shoulders twitching. Both hands shot upward as she forced herself to look toward the gods who had deserted her. She shook her fists at the sky as the figure leered down upon her. Whoever this actor was, he managed to carry enough menace within him that Atton swore he was another Revan coming to wreak his havoc upon Jay. _It's probably just Akoreth, the guy you taught pazaak, and who robbed you of half the cred-isk-a you earned._ It didn't help, because he truly loathed what came next.

"She cried out to her gods in her defeat and railed at them for allowing this monster to destroy everything she loved, but Githraz ignored her protests and broke her. He felt the Force in her and wanted her not just as his apprentice, but his lover."

Another stage trick, but one that seemed all the more convincing as her hands shot to her throat, and she gasped—her own set of stabilizers kicked in and jerked her to her feet as the creature gestured with a newly revealed crimson glove. _Choking. Force. Choking._ He'd never gotten over his revulsion at the nastiest and most primary Force technique any Sith hopeful learned, and the favorite of most dark Jedi. He'd been choked once or twice as a "joke" by new apprentices who hadn't survived the day, and it wasn't his favorite sensation. She stood on tiptoe, gasping for air, her hands flying mad to dislodge the invisible grip on her throat. The creature pulled back its hood, and its black-painted rictus contorted. It—his—hand reached out for his victim and ran a glove along her cheek. He couldn't bear to watch the next part, when he knew the replica of Githraz would pretend to bury his lips in the hollows of her throat. Instead, he watched Bastila shift in her seat, and narrow her eyes in an apparently seductive way at Revan. Revan, though, seemed more than entranced by Jay, and he saw the man's hand slip down beneath the table.

_Ugh. No wonder he's a virgin with habits like that._

Not that Yakoz behaved any differently. The Sith sat with a huge, half-lecherous grin that turned his stomach. _You have got to be kidding me._

"_Shekola_ is without equal in showing Aska-lash's torment of conversion and submission."

"This doesn't bug you? You seriously find this arousing?"

"At least Atton's eyes haven't changed when he looks at _shekola_."

Bastila's hand crept up Revan's unoccupied arm and he clutched at it with the desperation of the drowning. _Or the horny and virginal_. That, at least, was confirmed a second later as the old man brought the shriveled woman's hand below the table and she let out a coarse cough that he could only assume was a giggle. He flinched and stared back at the stage where she cowered, her hands crossed before her as "Githraz" ran his hand through her hair. The nightmare rent and shredded her scalp with his crimson-clad fingers, and a sudden shriek shook the cantina as she raised her crossed hands toward the heavens.

"He kept her bound by his side, both in chains and in the Force until she renounced her gods. He showed her power until she craved it, if only to avenge herself and her world."

"Hmm, as Malak did to me." Bastila's smile made him shiver more than her grimace did. "The technique works well, Master."

_And as I did to the Jedi. To her…_

"You learned this here, didn't you, Revan? To hurt someone enough that they'd do anything to try to kill you, including embracing everything they hated most. Force, I'm an idiot."

"_That_ goes without saying, Padawan."

He couldn't watch Jay suffer, even if the pantomime was cheesier than a holodrama. All he could manage as he pictured the dance in his head was to stare down into the fetid and rank greenness of his grass alcohol and watch the currents as he swirled it. _A spiral. A galaxy in a cup. And it's just as corrupted as the Force and this sector of space._ A wail, and he knew she had mastered enough of the Force to break her chains, and to try to choke the creature in turn. Next, she would be cast down, and "Githraz" would send a bolt of electricity into her heart. She would recover in his arms and cast herself down at his feet, arms raised in supplication. He would present her with her world once more, and she'd crush it in her arms.

"He brought her to life, and trained her after she begged to join him. He unleashed her on her own world and let her bring her people into the strength of darkness. She joined him at his side in conquest as they expanded the Sith Empire together."

"A satisfying ending, Master."

"You can't really say that, apprentice."

"Oh, I think I can. Is this _our_ ending?"

He kept his eyes riveted on his drink even though he sensed Yakoz staring at him in concern, and Jay's approach. _You should have changed first. You always did._ She slipped her arms around him and he felt her deep inside him, warm and bright in the slowly lifting gloom.

"You still hate that little piece, don't you?" He felt a gentle and warm fluttering against his cheek as he clamped his eyes shut.

"Yeah. I don't care how well you do it."

She laughed and he forced his eyes open. "I just think of it as an old trashy holovid instead of history, and I don't get anywhere nearly as depressed."

"I was just thinking holodrama."

"If I'd known about our _company_, I'd have made sure you were backstage. I'm just glad Yakoz-oska was here."

"_Shekola_ honors me. I sense your reason upon you, and I'll do my best to ease Atton's transition."

"Thanks," she said, and her true smile seemed to warm the Sith as much as it did him.

The shadowed figure dropped enough of his robes that he started to look almost Sith again. "_Shekosa_ brought his cards tonight, didn't he?"

_Akoreth._

"_Shekola_'s performance was brilliant until the surrender," the cardsharp said. "I had a hard time believing it after. But _shekola_'s weakness was always that part of the legend."

"I know, I know. I tried, but…"

"But you lack the appreciation for the tale." The painted Sith patted her on the back and grinned.

"You call it creation, but I see nothing but pain," Jay said. "Pain isn't a thing to celebrate."

"If you are a weak, pathetic creature," Bastila said, and glared at both of them through her clouded eyes.

"Come with me, love," she said. "I have something to show you."

She pulled him into her little changing room and locked the door.

"What?" he said as he stared at heaps of untidy costumes and her Peragus mining uniform folded neatly on top of the tallest.

"First, the mirror."

"Jay, is that really necessary?"

She nodded and he steeled himself for the sight of the creases.

"Wait, what happened?"

Normal, almost. Almost, but for a single persistent vein near his part. It stared back at him as his eyes fixed on it, and half-tormented him. _Not good enough. You're not good enough_, it said, and it was an even worse insult after her performance.

"You're not pleased? I thought…" She pressed herself against him, and beneath the robes, he felt a hint of metal.

"I'm not there yet."

"You have to start somewhere."

She cast aside her first layer of endless fabric, and the bruise almost went away, though the blue underblouse and black pants that didn't quite hang right upon her still hinted at a deep injury. Off the blouse went in a swift movement, and he stared at what she'd revealed underneath. The pants came next, and the boots, until she stood before him with a cocky grin as she'd once stood for Vogga. _How the hell did she get that here?_ She'd pulled off the dangling panels of red silk and stood clad in the two tiny fragments of golden metal that had been a part of his better dreams ever since he'd first seen it.

"Would a dance make you feel better?"

"No."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Get over here! No dance makes me feel better than you do."


	34. Temptation

"So all I get is a damned kiss? That's it?"

"Well, you could have had a dance, but…" Jay's grin turned wicked.

"Yeah, yeah, all my fault. I get it."

"Your true reward comes later."

"Yeah, and what's that? You refusing _again_?"

"You're telling me you can't wait an hour or two? The dark side has corrupted you beyond belief." She snickered.

"Yeah, like I could wait even before that." He grabbed her and pulled her and her luscious bikini-clad body close.

"I'm just worried about Yakoz out there. That, and I'm not thrilled about leaving any _echoes_ here. Well, not of _that_, anyway."

"You do get a little messy." As if he'd have it any other way.

Damn, that smile! And it almost made up for just how fast she slid the mining uniform back on.

"We have to get you some clothes, Jay. That thing's hideous, even if it hugs you almost the right way."

"Tomorrow. Tonight's cred-isk-a should help."

She slipped under his arm and led him half-unwillingly back to the table he'd once shared with only Yakoz. _The sooner you go, the sooner we'll be back in our room_, she whispered as he resisted her pull. _I can't take those two schuttas anymore, Jay. We're doomed if we're stuck on the __Hawk__ with them._ He hopped down off the stage after her and grimaced as two sets of clouded eyes met him.

"So, the Padawan returns."

"We're not doing this again, Sy," Jay said. "So just cut it out."

_It's not worth fighting. Why bother?_

_Because I'm sick of him baiting you. And with Bastila here, it's only going to get worse. I can feel it._

"For your sake, Jane."

"Sit, _shekola_. You seem weary." Fortunately, Akoreth had seen fit to scrub his face, and, apparently, had fetched two additional chairs that he'd jammed about the table's circumference.

"My ego smarts a little. That throw hasn't gotten any easier."

Akoreth patted the chair beside him and broke into a faint smile.

"We speak of weakness and trifles while _he_ waits," Bastila said.

"Who waits? Revan?" he asked as he settled between his card-playing friend and his Jedi.

"You are a fool, weak one."

"And you're nuts."

"The Pa—Atton speaks the obvious. Apprentice, explain yourself!"

"He waits for you, Master, in the deeps of the core worlds. He promises power to all who pledge themselves to his service. But you, Master, he wants you as his next apprentice."

Revan narrowed his eyes. "You speak of the Emperor, don't you, little fool?"

"Yes, he of unlimited power and endless life. He has lived a thousand years, Master, and he wishes to grant you similar power."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me. Tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, Sy. Please."

"I thought you could read me, Jane."

"If I read you, I'm open to the madness. There's been enough of that today to last me a lifetime. Or maybe ten."

Revan shot her a vaguely wounded look. _You question me, Jane? This war was never for my benefit._ "Our little fool needs to learn discretion and sense. You don't see what you've done, have you, apprentice?"

"I bring you a message of _power_, Master. Power that will aid you in your battles, and in conquering the galaxy!"

His chest clenched as he watched the withered man digest her words. _Well, I guess it's over, Jay, and we'll just be another couple of "Jedi" Revan paved over on his quest for glory._ Jay nestled into the crook of his neck and laced her fingers with his. For one shut down to larger awareness, she sure knew just what he needed. He reached for the warmth of her claim on him and felt her steadiness beneath it. She didn't seem to breathe either against his chest, and as he reached for the touch of her awareness, he felt a single thought, _If I have to steal the Force from all of us at this table, I'm ready. Just give me the trigger, Sy, and I'll pull it right now_.

_You can do that, Jay? Is that why the Council feared you so much?_

She met his eyes and nodded. _Are you willing to give up the Force, love? I can't… not to you, not if you're unwilling._

_I don't know._

She nodded again. "I know they can't read you right now. Revan's absorbed in reading her, and she… Well, reading others wasn't really her talent, even before she lost her wits."

"You've grown more foolish over the years apart, apprentice," Revan said. "We're here to _weaken_ him. _Destroy_ him if we can. I didn't journey to this sector of space and leave an empire behind just to surrender my will and my power to another."

"Well, _skreketh_ isn't quite so ignorant as I'd expected," Yakoz said. "_Shekola_, your tie seems to have lessened on him."

She breathed deep and grinned. "Looks like it's not hopeless after all. Thank you, Sy."

Revan nodded but couldn't meet her eyes or match her smile with his grimace.

"You! You've corrupted him, Exile!"

"How do you corrupt the fallen?" She snorted as he felt a current of violence run through the dark woman.

"And how did you find him and tie him to your will?"

"_You_ summoned me. _You_ brought me here. It was all your idea, Bastila."

"How dare you!" She clutched at her side and hissed. "And you have it still…"

"Mind yourself, apprentice. _You_ programmed the droid to seek Jane." He heard a faint wavering in the man's voice, and he shivered.

"Sy, maybe you should go back to the _Hawk_ and meditate. I feel the disturbance in you."

"You feel the _truth_ in him, Exile."

He hadn't thought corpses could go any paler, but whatever that nasty sludge that beat in Revan's blackened veins had left his face. "Perhaps that would be prudent, Jane."

"We'll watch her for an hour or two. Get your head back on straight."

_You can't be serious, Jay_.

_It can't get much more serious than this. You feel the pull on him, don't you? It's more than just the lure of her madness—there's something here in his past that he can't remember, but he still knows somehow. He needs to come to peace with it or suppress it, but he can't with her calling on it._

"But what is it?"

"I don't think even Sy knows, love."

"_Skreketh_ is more damaged than I thought," Yakoz said. "To sit near him is to sit near a glass or a plate shattered upon the floor."

"He is not damaged," Bastila said. "He merely awaits the opportunity to increase his power. And once he rules this galaxy, shapes it the way it is meant to be, this Emperor will be no more."

"And something just as bad will take his place. Do you remember _none_ of your training, Bastila? Of the dangers of power, of unrestrained passion, of the surrender of control to the Force?"

"Lies, all of it!"

"_Shekosa_ brought his cards?" Akoreth asked.

"Not sure how many cred-isk-a we have to spare, though." He brought out the deck as Jay shot him a half-amused grin.

"You really do bring those everywhere, don't you?"

"Not that I like losing or anything…"

"You might as well enjoy the cred-isk-a we have, love." She warmed his cheek with her lips. "We've had little enough joy lately."

The dark jedi just sat, her lips a hollow circle. For just a moment as he brushed her mind, he heard the echoing thoughts within. _We waste time when power awaits. Such power, beyond the ken of all of us._

_You think that Emperor would want you? He broke you, and used you as a messenger._

"Tell me why you killed all those people, Bastila," Jay said. "There has to be a reason for your wanton slaughter."

"The deaths were to lure my Master from where he hid, Exile. And to punish those who disobey _his_ will."

Jay shut her eyes as he dealt the cards for the game he knew would send them all to the cleaners and would keep the _Hawk_ colder than a deep freeze. _I hope Sy can resist her. If not, we're all lost._


	35. Reassurance

He had to admit that there was something about their room, whether they meditated in it, or did other less meditative things in it. Not that there was any actual meditating going on—Jay had seen to that when she'd surrendered to him for the evening. _What is it you wish of me, Master?_ The mischievous twitch in her voice had taken away all the creepiness Bastila had infused in the word. _First, you're going to take off all your clothes, and then you're going to call me 'sir.'_

Now, he held her and let his hands wander where they would, even though she'd thrown on that blue silk dress to thwart him. He broke free of her grasp and slipped on his tanksuit. Two could play at that game, and he grinned when she scowled.

"A servant shouldn't pout, Jay."

"Yes, sir. Would sir tell his servant why he clothed himself?" She couldn't keep a proper straight face, and the giggles burst free.

"Because the servant disobeyed her sir's will and dressed."

"Sir doesn't feel the disturbance?"

"What disturbance?" And then he felt it. Ugh, Revan.

"If sir permits, his servant would like to clothe herself further."

"You might want to drop the 'sir' stuff when he gets here." He nodded at her uniform. "Go for it."

"And you're not dressing?"

"I'm not catering to that murglak. Let him be uncomfortable."

On went the uniform over… nothing. He grinned as she turned her back and gestured at the zipper. He'd only zipped her uniform halfway when the bell-pull rang behind him, along with the wave of Revan's darkness. He felt it wash over him, tainted as the Force was in the hallway, and he shuddered as it called to a faint part of him. He remembered the false sense of strength, of power, and how simple it seemed to be completely uncontrolled. _Not a fan of complicated. Yeah, pretty much._

"He's worse," she said. "Unbalanced."

"And your hair's a wreck."

She snorted and pushed the door open with a flick of her finger.

"Jane?" He hadn't expected the man's voice to quiver. "Can I come in?"

She nodded. "Bastila?"

"Sit down, Revan!" he said. "You're making me twitch."

"Where is good?" Manners? From Revan? That made him shudder even more than the man's aura.

Jay gestured to the edge of the bed closest to the door. She took her meditation stance and waited, but their invader didn't bother to say anything. _Fine, it's up to me._

"Is there a reason you're here?"

"I need peace."

"So you came to bother us. Just great. Go find your balance with your madwoman."

"What's wrong, Sy?" He marveled at her calm, no matter the itchy, corrupted waves that rolled off their unfortunate companion.

"She's in my gut, in my head… I thought I knew what made sense, why I came, but…"

"There's something in your past that she's triggering, isn't there?"

"You're not reading me, Jane?"

"No. Not now. You're touchy enough as it is. I'm not risking your mind any further."

"I didn't think you would." Revan stared down at the coverlet.

"Are you going to cough up what's wrong, or are you just going to sit there like an idiot?" He wished he had Jay's calm, but he figured that would come in time. Or not. He'd never been that imperturbable, even when he'd glowed as much as she did.

"Fine," Revan muttered. "I want you to talk me down. Tell me I'm insane."

"That's easy. You're nuts."

Jay shot him a glare. Well, he supposed it was about time that Jay's "servant" act was over. "What's bothering you? What did Bastila trigger?"

"_I don't know!_" Revan took a deep breath. "I've tried to bring it back. I've tried digging, but I can't remember! She's on me, she tells me she has a plan to destroy the Emperor. She's given me plans to the palace, to its secret weak points where we can sneak in… And I can't see the madness in her plans. This war _could_ be over. And in mere weeks, not years, not decades."

"You're crazy. Completely and utterly mad. Nuts. Stupider than a lobotomized ronto."

"The Pad—Atton would say that."

"You don't feel the trap, Sy? You know how the dark side is—it looks easy and fast, but it eats you alive. You know what it's done to you, and you feel it in you. She admitted she was the Emperor's 'messenger,' his pawn, to us once you left. She killed those people to create a disturbance that would summon you here, and to 'punish' them for changing their beliefs."

"I don't feel it, and… Jane, you've always been loyal and rational, even now that you hate me. Tell me I'm crazy to even see the possibilities."

"I don't hate you, Sy."

"You've forgiven me? I can't read you at all."

She sniffed and then gave the old man a tentative smile. "Yeah, I guess I have. Strange, I didn't even realize it, but Yakoz did. I must be slipping."

"She pulls on me more than I remember."

"You've been apart for a long time. It's only natural that you'd forget how your bond felt."

He'd always known she'd manage, but it gave him no comfort at all that she'd finally forgiven Revan. He hated the conciliatory tone she took with the warped creature, the same way he hated her smile, soft and warm. From the smile came encouragement, and from encouragement came more flirting and interest. _I'm getting damned sick of the way he leers at her, like she's some prime cut of nerf steak._ Not that his were the _lightest_ thoughts in the galaxy. _There's still a lot of room for improvement._ She slid her arms around him and kissed his cheek. His sulking must have been a lot more obvious than he thought; he hadn't felt the touch of her mind since Revan came in.

"Maybe. She gave me a map, Jane, a holomap, and showed me all the weak points in the Emperor's palace. We could land the _Hawk_ safely and undetected, and infiltrate and kill the Emperor in his sleep. We'd be out before…"

"In what galaxy does this make sense, Revan?" he asked. "It's a trap, and a damned obvious one at that. Who the hell gave her the map, do you think? Or do you think at all?"

"Bastila was never a strategist. She's crafty, maybe, at most. Can you really see her infiltrating the Emperor's organization and making off with detailed plans not just of the palace, but also cataloging each and every weak point? It doesn't make sense. She knows Battle Meditation, but not much else."

The old man rubbed his forehead and stared at the wall. "I… Damn it, I don't _know_!"

"Go back the _Hawk_, Sy. Meditate. Let your sense return."

"She follows me, and when she's not there in the body, she's in my mind! There's no escape. I tried, Jane, but she was in my head, my soul, my gut. It's quiet here. For now, there's silence, but…"

"I'm so sorry. I..."

"Malachor followed you, didn't it, Jane?"

"You think?" She giggled.

"Ten years… Trying to imagine that… You're strong, Jane, and powerful. I wondered how you resisted the pull, hated you for resisting it, and I thought you were broken and weak. But you're not the weak one."

"Come back to the light, Sy. Don't you think the dark side has taken enough from you yet?"

"You and Atton did good work here, Jane."

"Good, hunh? I'll believe that when you don't look like a shriveled corpse." A compliment could only mean one thing: deception, but he didn't feel any from Revan.

"You still think I'm after her, don't you?"

"I think you'll do whatever it takes to gain you more power. Just because you showed a flash of compassion for your crazy girlfriend and you lent Jay a hand in restraining her doesn't mean I trust you or that I believe you've changed."

"It's obvious Jane loves you and will give anything for you. I wasn't a match for her will or for your own devotion, for that matter. You turned down ultimate power, and you're trying to change for her."

"Shame you couldn't do that for your insane friend, isn't it?"

"You're not going to shush your padawan, Jane?"

"Atton's not my Padawan; he's my husband. He has the right to say whatever he wishes, and I'm not going to say a damned thing to him unless he steers himself off the path he's chosen."

"Even with his words, it's still quieter here."

"What do you need, Sy? If it's reasonable, I'll do whatever I can to help."

"I need… I need to stay here, to meditate, to gather my wits."

"You have _got _to be kidding me!" _Don't even think about saying yes, Jay. Don't you dare._

She stared into his eyes, and he saw her plea. _He has a chance, love_, he heard as he touched her mind. _This might be the only one he has. Otherwise, we're stuck with two of the worst and most evil fools the galaxy has ever seen, and who knows what they'll manage to screw up?_

"Dammit, Jay! You're going to force this, aren't you? Give up the space we have, and the one chance for a little goddamned peace and quiet away from the slagheap, the tin can, this murglak and his lunatic 'apprentice?'"

"Do we have a choice?"

"I… Damn. No, we don't, do we? Is this another one of your _visions_?"

She shook her head. Her thought sounded almost like speech in all its vehemence. _They'll take the damned ship while we're sleeping and steer it to the Emperor's palace. If Sy doesn't, she will. She's a pilot, love, and a good one from her trainers' boasts._

"Jane, I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

"Try what?" He fought to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"To change my path. I haven't given you reason to believe me, but…"

"No deception," he said as he felt the man's certainty.

"And I'll do my damnedest to help you," she said, her voice too quiet for comfort.


	36. Turning

That wasn't really the kind of face Atton liked waking up to in the morning: grey and seamed with nightmarish stormy yellow eyes. Focused right on him, burrowing deep into his soul. Ugh. He'd never awakened before that that horrific visage, even when he'd alienated Jay, and he'd been convinced she'd left him to "that damned schutta's" mercies. A chill made its way down his spine. Leisurely, almost. A slow stroll along a bright, sunlit beach. What the hell was he rambling on about? He felt her warmth and the tickle of her growing awareness next to him. The chill vanished just as Revan opened his damned mouth.

"Good morning, Atton. Jane."

"Damn, I was hoping this was all a dream. A really bad one."

Jay giggled as she rolled over to face him. "Not my favorite sight, either. Morning, Sy."

"Finally, some proper manners."

"Since when did you start worrying about manners, Revan?"

Jay's giggle turned into a deep laugh that rolled out of her like the endless rippling of Dantooine's grasses. If Revan hadn't been there, he'd have gladly listened to that laugh all day.

"I…" He'd never known the old man could be rendered speechless.

"Feeling better, Sy?" She had to gasp the words out.

"I _was_."

"Good. Now get the hell out of here!" Digression from the path of the light or no, it felt damned good to say those words.

Jay's look was one of pure sympathy, and her thoughts, _Force, I hope he'll leave._ So he hadn't slipped.

"I feel her waiting, Jane."

"Look, Sy, much as I'm glad to help you back from the darkness, we need to bathe. Alone. Wait just outside if you want, but leave."

"Jane."

"What, you wanted to share a tub, Revan? You're really not my type."

So, grey flesh could turn purple, and the blood that flowed in those blackened veins really was still red. He felt the man's wave of anger like a physical shove, but behind it was something he knew all too well: the shrinking feeling he'd had in Atris' force cage.

"You're scared. Didn't think the _great_ Revan was capable of fear."

"Sy, you're strong enough to handle a few minutes in the hallway. After that, the room is yours for the day. I'll see if I can get Irvesh to spare a man or two to keep Bastila away."

"You think that stops her pull? That a simple, quiet room is enough to silence the ties in which the Force entangled us?"

"I… Look, Sy—I trust that you want to change, at least a little, but you're too damned dangerous to unleash on these people."

"And I'm supposed to change in isolation, except for her screams, her whispers, her lure in my mind? Bonds don't work that way, Jane. I don't control it any more than she can. I feel the Emperor was counting on that when he sent her after me."

"Dammit!" he muttered. He sensed what was coming and the chill began its stroll anew.

"I'm not an expert on bonding, Sy. That was always _you_. And Kreia, from what I remember."

"You calm me. The pieces don't grate against each other as they do when I'm alone. _She_ knows that, and I sense the Emperor read my weakness in her memories."

"So, no peace and quiet for the sake of the galaxy, hunh? The Force is a damned murglak!"

Jay's laugh startled him. "Life itself is a murglak?"

She kissed his cheek and let the peals take her over. _Only you could say something like that, love_. Even her thoughts shook with her belly. But what truly stunned him was the wave of pure warmth and devotion that followed. He felt it slice through every last shield, every last all of his being, tinged as it was with the sharp tang of her desire. For just a few minutes as she clung to him and choked and gasped with the force of her hilarity, the room itself blazed with her aura. He imagined the galaxy infused with her light, and his mind rebelled. Nothing could live with that brilliance, even if his every last cell craved it. He grabbed her and pressed her belly against his to feel her spasms as his own, and without even a hint of forethought, she wrapped herself around him, legs and arms in a tangle. Her light tickled him and made his fingertips tingle. He felt Revan's glare on both of them, and that set her light ablaze in his gut.

"And you wanted to end this," he said. "End her laughter, her brilliance, to destroy her beauty, and the joy she brings to the galaxy. What kind of monster are you, Revan? Even if you say you want to change, to break away from the nightmare you chained yourself to, you still want to break her somewhere deep in your heart. I _feel_ it. I don't trust you. Not for one second, when the only reason you want to 'come back' from the pit you dug yourself into is because you don't want to be as stupid as the little monster you created."

"Very _light_ thoughts, Padawan. Selfishness is as valid a motive as any, isn't it, Jane?" He could have sworn Revan leered at her.

She lay entwined about him, gasping for air. She giggled in bursts punctuated by long, deep, choking breaths. He clutched at her as he stared into Revan's eyes and challenged him over the honeyed silk that adorned crown of her head. _She isn't yours, and she never will be_.

"You think I don't know that? You think I'm lying to you when I tell you that I know I can never break you apart? You're a bigger fool than even you think you are."

"I know enough of you and your 'tools,' Revan. You might believe what you say right now, but you'll be back to your 'old' ways the second it's convenient."

"Old ways die hard. One afternoon away, and you returned to the path of weakness."

"And sometimes, some 'old ways' are better," Jay said, her voice harsh from her laughter. "The oldest ways were best for you, Sy."

"Bathe. I'll be out in the corridor. But hurry—Bastila awakens."

"The room is yours after that, Sy. I'll hail T3 and have him watch her."

"That remains to be discussed. Take your damned bath."

Revan hung over the bath thicker than the steam that rose from it. He couldn't relax, no matter how much better the suds and the actual _water_ felt than the damned sonic shower on the _Hawk_. Jay set to work on his shoulders, but her expert touch felt like nothing. She sighed deep though and leaned against him as he fumbled around with hers. He felt her _awareness_ as a gentle caress, and he knew she sensed his dread, just as he felt a strange lightness in her. He couldn't begin to understand why he felt the freedom in her when it felt to him like the chains he thought she'd imposed on him were pulling ever tighter around his throat.

"At least he won't be staring at me."

"What?"

"I sense a turning."

"And I sense a monster just waiting to take advantage of us. You think this is it? You think that his crazy plaything is going to make things easier?"

"She'll be a distraction, a valuable one, I think."

"You've lost it, Jay. Completely. You know he's going to find a way to stay with us. All the time, every night."

In the corridor, something stirred. It didn't feel like Revan's madness, or the arrhythmic background spurts of Bastila's thoughts. He reached for it beyond the quiet, and felt something he hadn't since Jay had helped return him mostly to himself. The howl reminded him of Jay's endless screams when she'd look at him, and he'd look away, the shriek she'd let out in the shyrack cave on Korriban. The howl was female, distinctly female, and even if he couldn't read her half-alien thoughts, he knew the depth of it and the pain of it all too well. One of the Sith? The room's insulation kept him from getting a proper read of the woman's despair, but he could feel hints of her revulsion. _Revan_?

"The turning," Jay said and smiled at him.

"She needs us." He tried to probe the strange woman's mind further, but flinched back at the memory of Jay's own screams. "We have to help her, Jay."

She nodded.

_So much for a nice bath_, she thought. As if she should have expected anything else with Revan around.


	37. Sickness

The red-skinned woman cringed beside the door when Jay pushed it open, and despite the plea in her mind, she cringed away from both of them. Atton brushed her mind, and felt, beyond the screeching, that her eyes smarted. A quick look through the Force, and he cringed at the almost twin red figures before him. Revan smirked at him as he shuddered, and he knew the old man had lodged himself firmly in his mind. The woman didn't say a word to Revan, but instead, kept as much space as she reasonable could between the doorway and him. He'd expected Revan to be meditating out there, but instead, the man leaned half-lazily against the opposite wall. His eyes drifted to Jay and her bright blue, and his gut settled again.

The woman bowed deep at the waist to him, and kept her eyes averted from Jay. "Salu-ya, _shekosa._"

"Esh-salu-ta, meyaam."

"Ah-ma Kevel, esh-salu-ta," Jay said and circled her heart.

_Kevel_. So he did know her, but by reputation only. Jay had helped her husband's workers escape the worst of her husband's droid-delivered tyranny by slicing the control systems. Al-hem Pervon had flown in several offworld "computer experts," but none had been able to repair his droids. _With vassals like that, how can you not be that dark?_ He remembered the way the slaves had writhed at the droids' shocks if they carried too little and cringed again. _Should I feel sorry for a monster like that? But I do._

Kevel studiously avoided looking in Jay's direction, and hailed him instead. "I need your aid, _shekosa_, if you would. And _shekola_'s as well, if she would see fit. My son…"

"Of course," he said as Jay nodded. Was this some Sith custom he hadn't encountered yet, for the woman to hail the husband, not the wife?

"Kevel-oska, what can we do for you?"

Kevel flinched as Jay spoke. "_Shekosa_, my son…"

"She hates you, Jane," Revan said, and cackled.

"Whether she hates me or not doesn't matter. Kevel-oska, what's wrong with your son?"

The Sith woman narrowed her emerald eyes and glared at Jay with enough fury that he swore blaster bolts would shoot from them. The woman said nothing, though, as Jay met her eyes with an almost inhuman calm, and cast her head down. Her unbound hair covered her face like a fuel spill. He tried to find traces of the dark side's unnatural aging aging in his memory of her face, but he thought her maybe his age, or a little younger. _These half-Sith are born and bred to the dark side—they must have adapted over the centuries._

"I speak to _shekosa_ only."

"You hate Jay that much? Why?"

"She is my failure, cast in my face. The blame of what has happened to Wansel stares at me from her eyes, from her brightness. She mocks me in her perfection."

"Wansel is your son, meyaam?"

The Sith said nothing under the oil-colored swirls that covered her face.

"Love, ask her if…" _Why she believes she failed her son._

He nodded. "Kevel-oska, meyaam." He lay a hand upon her shoulder and the woman didn't flinch away. "Why does Jay remind you of your 'failure?' What's wrong with your kid?"

"Echoes of her light," the woman whispered. "You share it, but it doesn't sear me and torment me as _she_ does. _Skreketh_ knows what I speak of, don't you, black one?

"Jane hurts many," Revan said. "But in her brightness, she's something rare here."

_Echoes of her light_.

"Does it really matter? Your kid's in danger, and you haven't told us why. We can't help him—or you—until you tell us what's going on."

"Danger, yes. Danger from me, from his father."

"You're trying to hurt him?" He remembered his own attack on Jay, and he hadn't been anywhere near as possessed as this woman.

"Trying? No, not trying. What he sees, what I have become, slays him a little day by day. His father—he destroys him more, just by his very being. Pervon destroys me as surely every moment, as surely as he destroys Wansel. And my hate…"

"I don't get it. Your kid is dying from hatred and the Force?"

She nodded and her hair fell back to a blood-colored rainfall. He hadn't heard any hint of choking or sobbing from her as she spoke. "The darkness eats at him and he weakens. He no longer walks, and his _father_ wishes to end him. 'Weakness must be destroyed.'"

"Kevel-oska," Jay said, her voice thick, "I wish I knew how…"

"You don't know what's wrong with him?" And if she didn't…

"I've never heard of Force-sickness, of it destroying the very life that wields it. The dark side twists and corrupts, but it doesn't kill the wielder."

"Ignorant," Revan muttered.

"Care to enlighten me, exalted one?" The words seemed mocking, but she smiled.

"You haven't traveled here much, have you? The Force is different here, and has different effects. Some, who don't bathe in it, can fight it, and others are consumed and destroyed. You remember who died and who didn't at Malachor."

He slipped an arm around her as she shuddered.

"Either the Force calls to you or it sickens you. You have to be strong in spirit to resist its call or you die. A child with a spirit like yours doesn't stand a chance."

"I hope you know how to cure it, Sy, because I have no idea how you'd even start."

"I've learned a technique or two. If you have the cred-isk-a, Sith, I'll help your son."

"Very mercenary of you," he said. "You can't just help her out of the goodness of your own blackened, shriveled heart, or to 'change.'"

"No money, Sy. Not a single cred-isk-a."

The Sith stared at Jay again, but the hatred seemed strangely muted. "You control _skreketh_, _shekola_?"

"No. If I did, things wouldn't be the disaster they are now. What happened to your son is in part my fault. I angered your husband, and moved him further into corruption. I'm sorry, Kevel-oska."

"_Shekosa_, your look brings memory. Pervon once looked at me as you look at _shekola_. I need to remember… _Shekola_ may have ruined our droids, but she forced the change I once tried to counsel Pervon to accept. Our yields have doubled and the slaves live and prosper, but…"

"He achieved more power, but he hates the one who brought it to him. Kae would have loathed that man," Revan said.

"Darth Traya hated everyone. She'd have hated Jay for making him more powerful."

"I need both of you if I'm going to do this, both of your strength. I could have done it with only Jane's help before I met you, but it would exhaust me now." Revan's matter-of-fact tone threw him. "And I'll need Bastila."

"_Skrekeshtah_? _Shekosa_, this makes no sense. He suffers from darkness, but you would surround him again with it?"

"I don't know. Jay might have enough light for the rest of us…"

"I think I see what Sy's getting at. Bastila's talent might strengthen us enough to fight off the darkness. Am I on the right track, Sy?"

"Darkness driven off by darkness. Jay, this is crazy! I can't do this! You told me yourself I should stay away from using the Force."

_I'm not so sure about that anymore. Kevel saw you clearly enough, even if you haven't bothered to look at yourself._

_Fine, Jay. Fine._ The faintest hint of blue in a field of mostly grey, where he'd been pink the evening before.

"You're right, Jane. If the Padawan can handle it."

She grinned, and her grin widened as she caught his own look of, well, he wasn't sure what he was feeling. That was him? _Welcome back to the light, love._

"Kevel-oska, I think we can help Wansel, if you'll let us."

_Welcome back to the light. Hunh. _He stared at her and basked in not just the pride in her smile, but in her thoughts. _Not light enough, though._

"Now what, Jay?"

"Sy will tell us what has to be done, won't you?"

"I meant about this whole light thing."

"How far you want to go along the path is up to you. But you're on it, and on the right side of the Force again."

Revan glared at him, and then at Jay. "If I have to."

Kevel bowed to each of them in turn. "I thank you, _shekosa_."


	38. Teamwork

"I don't like this," he said as they waited in the hallway for Revan to say his piece to his supposed apprentice. "I have…"

"A bad feeling," Jay said. "I know."

"So this is what marriage is liken, hunh?"

She grinned and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Funny that the pull of power was gone, even if his gut still twinged with a different feeling. This felt worse than his twitching on Korriban, the Harbinger, and the _Hawk_ when Revan had first boarded it. But it was a diffuse kind of worse, the kind of worse that took a long time to happen. Worse than Revan? He couldn't imagine that was possible, but he hadn't imagined Revan could possibly be as awful as he was.

"Finishing each other's sentences? You already share my mind."

Kevel stared at them both and brushed her eyes with the back of her hand. He noticed the shimmer, bright as blood when she dropped it to her side.

"_Shekola_ should listen to _shekosa's_ warning."

"I know. He's never led me wrong. Thank you, Kevel-oska."

_What is it you sense? Wansel and his family will be fine. I feel it._

"I don't know. It's something looming, but this… You remember Revan's arrival, don't you, Jay?"

"Too well. You twitched for a good day. We'll be careful. I sense a turning, but…"

"The 'but' is what I'm worried about."

"Isn't it always?" She took his hand.

True.

He didn't get the chance to worry when violent words erupted from the crack in the door as Bastila pushed it open. She stood behind Revan as he left the room, hands on her waist, a gesture he hadn't seen quite enough from Jay lately. He peered behind them into a deep, rich sanctuary. Crimson tapestry, a shade deeper than Kevel's flesh and her Force-aura, adorned the walls, testament to the bleeding slave who had once died slowly and painfully inside. He felt the man's screams echo in his mind as he tried to make out the tight-woven patterns, not just in the walls, but in the woven ebony rugs that covered every inch of the floors. _Swirls_, but he couldn't find any rhyme or reason to them, or any true Sith symbols. _A universe of tiny galaxies, all for their taking?_ If only the screams and the impressions of the man's bleeding hands on the walls, and his festering corpse-fluids on the floor had been all that radiated from every surface, he wouldn't have reeled back into Jay's arms. The worst was the laughter of his slayer, the woman who delighted in twisting and contorting his body with the Force, stripping his flesh with its cutting edge.

_Steady, love. These are just ghosts who scream and laugh. They've been dead for centuries._

And this was a room for a madwoman? He felt Bastila's chaotic mind before he flinched away and took solace in Jay's eyes instead.

"I am _not_ giving up power for weak fools, Master. You weaken yourself when true power awaits you."

"That's an order, apprentice. You have no choice but to obey." He felt the redness behind Revan's eyes, and the rising tide of his rage.

"The Exile has tightened her hold on you, Master. You must resist."

"Jane did nothing to me that wasn't of my own choosing. My power is my own, and greater than yours, little fool. You _will_ obey."

"You would order me to weaken myself further? That isn't our way, or _his_."

"Enough!" Not just the tide, but the Force boiled within Revan, and he sensed that only Jay's bond kept the old man from destroying Bastila.

The door slammed shut behind Revan and a crack formed between Aska-lash's eyes. Narrowed eyes that seemed almost alive in the carved tan stone, no matter how the artists had stylized them in the Korriban manner. Her curled fingers loomed above him, the wild hair unbound around her in careless waves. She cast madness upon all who entered her sanctuary, and the crack contorted her features into pure evil. _Imagine worshipping her. Imagine living as she did._ Not that he had to imagine, even if he'd rather forget. He'd seen Jay fall under Akoreth's spell too many times and had lived too dark for too long not to _understand_.

"Come, apprentice," Revan said as Jay cleared her throat. "We have work to do."

For all that the withered woman had been silent as he played pazaak with Akoreth, she made up for it with her endless stream of arguments as they left the building. She'd worked herself into a lather by the time they'd reached the front door, and Revan's rage blocked all else out, even Jay's warmth. _Got to stay calm and remember what we're doing. Remember Kevel's pain, and Jay's scream. Remember that you can do something about it._

"This is foolish, Master," Bastila said, squinting in the sudden morning light.

He felt the Force twist like a rope in Revan's upraised hands and shuddered as the invisible band wrapped around Bastila's seamed throat.

"Cut it out, Sy!" Jay tugged at his shoulder. "This is no way to…"

"Jane!" Her name came out like a curse. "She must learn to obey again."

"Stop it! Now!"

He'd never seen quite that shade of purple on a human face, even when he'd choked _her_. Yet Revan still kept her on the leash as he felt the awareness begin to fade from her body. Jay twitched beside him, her own face twisted. Why didn't she intervene? Counting on a schutta like Revan to do the right thing or to back down was idiocy itself.

"Murglak," she muttered.

She caught Revan in a hasty stealth field as he prepared to pull the noose tighter. The moment the field tightened around him and trapped him, Bastila fell to the ground. The dark jedi gasped and sputtered as Jay rushed to her. _Fine… I guess I can do this._ Light was coming a lot harder to him than he wanted. He felt for her injuries and sent the Force in to do its work. Healing still drained him more than he'd anticipated, but not abnormally. Still, to drain himself for that mad, squawking creature, felt more than a little wrong. How had Jay put it? _Wimping out_. Yeah, she was right: as good as the light side of the Force usually felt, sometimes it wasn't particularly satisfying. Satisfying would have been to strand Revan and Bastila on some habitable, but uninhabited world, and then head back to Nar Shaddaa or Citadel Station for a permanent vacation. Jay had obviously caught his thoughts as she looked up and grinned.

"Are you all right?" she asked the madwoman.

"The light distorts you," Bastila said. "You are powerful, more powerful than my Master. Perhaps even more powerful than any other Jedi I've encountered."

"Are you ok? I wasn't looking for an analysis of my power."

"My Master can be quite _forceful_ when he chooses."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' then." She helped the dark jedi to her feet.

"I did not think it possible for one on the weaker path to be so strong. I am your servant, Exile."

"Servant, hunh? Jay, I don't like this."

"I don't need a servant, nor does Sy. What we need is your help."

"Order me, and I will do as you ask, powerful one. The wars forged you into a potent weapon, one that _he_ could use."

"We're not exactly here for that. I'm not going to order you to do anything; I'm not Sith, and I don't force compliance. If you want orders, go to Sy."

"To serve a weak shell of a man…"

"Stronger than you," he muttered.

The redness had eased just a little in Revan's stirring mind, but he still felt the rage and the echo of madness trying to draw the old man back under. _Well, with a lover like that, who wouldn't be crazy?_ He felt the bond, and the way every last feeling of hers echoed as a part of Revan's own thoughts and her feelings, jumbled and chaotic passions lit his even as he struggled for control. He felt Jay's tie, weak still, but growing, and growing in appreciation. _Trouble—you can't mix fire and ice for too long. The ice melts and drowns the fire, and then freezes everything in its wake. Or the fire vaporizes the water._ The man struggled for control of his mind as his body awakened. He felt a brief stab of compassion for Revan as he remembered the fractured memories they'd shared aboard the _Hawk_. And now he fought a war of bonds as well; the man was the very definition of _broken_.

"Jane."

"Sorry, Sy. You were out of control, and…"

"Not the best way to 'change,' is it?" A smile-grimace. "You could have done worse. And so could I."

"You're _weak_, Master," Bastila said. "The Exile bested you and barely had to lift a finger to do it."

"Wansel sickens as we dither," Kevel said. "Will you help him or not, _skrekeshtah_?"

"I await orders, Exile."

"Sy?"

"We're helping this woman, apprentice."

"Of course, Master," Bastila said, but her gaze remained affixed to Jay.

He touched Bastila's mind again, and in the chaos of half-coherent thoughts, he found only one he could grasp: _The Emperor needs her, not Revan. I must see she understands true power._ Suddenly that twitch erupted into a full-scale shuddering, and not even Jay's arm around him eased it.

"Good, then we have little time to waste," Jay said.


	39. Donors

Jay had been the one to visit Kevel's plantation and to wreak havoc upon it. He'd been sequestered inside the Magister-ash-kesah testifying to the innocence of Irvesh's assistant. _That_ memory hadn't been the most pleasant; the Magister board had spent the afternoon probing his mind until he was ready to let loose with a little lightning. They kept to surface truth only, at least so far as he could sense, so he'd tolerated it as best he could for the woman's sake. These Magisters were no Darth Trayas, sliding in and stealing what they could with no regard for the bleeding. The worst he'd felt was an alien tingle.

He walked hand in hand with Jay, trailed by two Sith in belief, and one in race, through endless fields, acres and acres of the yellow tempa-grass before he caught sight of the enormous brown hummock that rose from its center. The endless grass did nothing but accentuate its ridiculous circumference. Walking out in the open air felt _good_, freeing, almost as good as losing the nagging urge to unleash his power. Sparring on the ship didn't have the same freedom, even if it kept him as conditioned. For all the that galaxy and its empty spaces reached on forever into infinity, somehow the tiny, contained mass of a planet felt larger, more spacious, and not quite so _confined_. Jay wriggled her shoulders and sighed.

"The air's so clear," she said. "Almost like Dantooine."

Almost if you ignored the small red specks that moved through the tall stalks like tiny ants, almost if you ignored the flashes of silver that trailed mobs of them. But almost was as good as it was going to get here. _You couldn't get Al-hem Pervon to free the slaves, Jay? "You're talking about trying to shave Hanharr without a razor and durasteel shackles."_ Everything in these worlds was an endless series of half-measures. Don't beat the slaves. Don't stun them. Let them do their jobs. But keep them as slaves anyway. Free the falsely accused, but transfer her slavery to an easier master. Once that had been enough, but he sensed now that he and Jay could have done much more than they had. Sure, the slaves ate now, and could harvest at their own pace. Sure, the droids helped pick up the surplus the slaves couldn't haul in instead of torturing them. But that didn't solve the real problem, and it had just created another: this kid being tortured by his horrid parents and life itself around them.

"You can't change everything overnight. You should have learned that during the Mandalorian Wars," Jay said. "Sometimes enough is the best you can do."

"It's never enough."

"No, it isn't. But the changes, small as they are send ripples through the Force. You feel it here, and we're going to fix some of its unintended consequences now. Maybe these changes will echo more than my earlier slicing."

"Always an optimist, aren't you?" But he loved her all the more for it.

"Or I'd go crazy." Her smile didn't seem convincing.

She shuddered at the rich darkness of the entryway. He really didn't understand the Sith obsession with red and black; didn't they see too much of it when they looked at each other? The entryway spoke to that fondness in its bloodied wall-hangings, solid but rich, and the plush carpeting that made the entire floor feel like an open pit. What little light came from the torchieres that lurked in all corners of the hexagonal room was muted by gauzy shades in alternating panels of gold, black and crimson. The only relief from the unending gore came from the gilded frames that supported cushion-shaped shadows above the bottomless pit that yawned underfoot. Jay shivered again beside him, even though he knew she'd seen this room before. Her mind came back as an unending stream of cards, a reading of her pazaak deck. The darkness must have been getting to her more than she'd let on if she couldn't manage a full game. Why she bothered with the shield made his gut twitch.

"You _see_ something, Jay?"

She leaned against him, and used him for support as they staggered down the long tunnel that passed for a hallway. Nothing adorned the smooth earth walls, and only occasional recessed lamps made it possible to see just a flicker more than shadow.

"What? No. I just feel the rage here, and with Bastila broadcasting… I had to shut it out."

"The child is screaming," Revan said. "It's enough to throw even the strongest off balance."

He felt nothing, though. Nothing more than the usual pulsing taint in the Force, though his gut twisted at Jay's words. _Why can't I feel it? Because, idiot, you're not as powerful as they are._ Then he laughed at himself; he'd forgotten that he'd shut off his awareness when he'd spotted the slaves. As he reached out to _listen_, that twisted premonition hit him again. _Revan. Revan's going to do something, and Jay will allow it. _He dropped Jay's hand and grabbed her tight against him.

"You're going to let him… That 'bad feeling' I had is worse."

"Let who? And what?" She kept her voice at a whisper, as if she was afraid the low ceiling would bury them alive.

"Revan, and I don't know what. But whatever it is…"

He felt the boy's scream then, endless and low-pitched. Weak. Kevel slipped ahead and her own shriek sharpened until it filled all of his senses.

"_Shekosa_, we must hurry! Follow."

"No hesitation, apprentice," Revan said, his reedy voice a hiss.

"Yes, Master." He shivered at her half-mocking tone.

_This doesn't bode well for any of us. Who knows what she'll do next to the woman she wants as her new master?_

Down the hall she led them at a sprint, a straight line to a cluster of doors arranged around the perimeter of a circular atrium. Here, a beam or two of sunlight penetrated the deep gloom the shadowed carpet and the orange-red walls stole and perverted from the few recessed lamps around the curved ceiling. He didn't have much of a chance to take in the sunlight he'd really begun to miss as Kevel threw one of the doors on the far side of the atrium open.

"Here! Hurry! He weakens."

Jay breathed hard, but rushed in beside the Sith woman.

"Here, _shekola_. Please, calm him, strengthen him as only you can."

He'd expected Wansel to live in the lap of luxury, but the bed the boy lay upon was barely larger than the _Hawk_'s bunks, and the covers looked like a plain, everyday tempa-fabric. Wansel himself seemed to defy his expectations; the Sith boy looked to be in his early teens, and wasn't built scrawny and sharp as he'd anticipated. Instead, the boy seemed to be carved out of a thick slab of granite, much as blondie had been. The loud scream stopped the moment Jay crouched at his bedside, and, instead, piercing green eyes sharper than the zakkeg's met his own. _He can see everything inside me. The darkness, the violence… And the mercy. He knows my shame._ He hadn't felt this _naked_ since he'd been stuck in that field of nullity.

"_Shekosa_," the boy said in a cracking voice, just on the edge of manhood. "And _shekola_."

"Your mother brought us to try to help you."

"And _skreketh_ and _skrekeshta_. I feel your stories, the way your lives blend and tangle together. Ma, you brought a net."

"You call your mother Ma?" Jay asked. She smiled. "That's what I called my mother before the Order sent me away."

The boy wheezed and managed a smile. "Legends I hear of the ancient Order and its evils, but you come, and you shine light here. I feel…"

"We're here to help, Wansel-oska," Jay said.

"I know, _shekola_. When I see you, I wonder why the ancients held such hatred for the Jedi."

"I'm not a Jedi."

"Your thoughts are different than your reality, _shekola_. You are Jedi, and you shine brighter than the sun."

"Call me Jainia, would you?"

"Enough of this nonsense!" Revan said.

He curled down next to Jay, and next to the boy's low, tiny bed.

"Is there anything I can do, kid?"

"Stay with _shekola_, _shekosa_. She needs you more than you know."

"I mean about your sickness. I'm the one who needs Jay, not the other way around."

"Let's just get this over with, Master," Bastila said. "The sooner we end this self-weakening, the sooner…"

"Jane, Atton, I need you open. None of that shielding nonsense. Apprentice, begin your meditations."

_Open? Great. Just what I need, nudity in front of that warped thing you call "apprentice" when you're not having her fondle you in public._

"Fine. Let's just get this over with, hunh?"

"Jane, I need you to hold the child's hand, and Atton, you seem to have no problem at all putting your hands all over Jane."

He put his arm around Jay and then felt the rising hum of Bastila's talent, vibrating him deep in his gut. As the power built and the vibrations shook him deep, he felt a surge in his mind and in the Force itself. A sharp current ran up his spine and through his fingers to Jay, who looked at him with an eyebrow raised. He wondered if this was what it felt like when you _really_ hooked up a power coupling, not in the sarcastic sense the zakkeg had used when he'd overheard her talking to Jay about her "glow." A surge of strength followed the current, and for a few endless seconds, he thought he could strike down the Sith Emperor on his own. Darth Traya's weaker strain of this talent hadn't been anything close to this. _Now I get why Revan wanted this otherwise typical Jedi._

"What now, Sy?"

"Now I link you and transfer some of your power and light to the child."

He heard Revan's thought, _There's no way the Padawan would agree to this. So much for Jane's redemption attempt._

"What you're doing is _permanent_."

"Yes, Atton."

"All right. Take more from me." He stared into the old man's eyes, hoping he challenged him.

"You're sure, Padawan?"

He felt the skepticism, the scoffing thought, _The fool thinks he's sparing Jane, and he doesn't understand that he'll never reach his full potential. He's crippling himself before he grows._ He felt Jay's mind flicker, and then a scream and a sigh, but he was so focused on Revan that he missed the image the boy and Jay had shared.

"You're sure this is what awaits, Wansel-oska?"

The kid managed a weak nod.

"Sy, take it all from me. All of it."

"What? No! No, you're not going to do that, Revan!"

_Then we'll have to make do with most of it coming from me. Sip from him, but no more, Sy._

"Why, Jay?"

"I'll show you later, love."

"The Exile weakens herself," Bastila muttered. "_He_ will have to make do with Master." A long sigh.

He'd always pictured the Force as a huge, invisible, but living, ocean that surrounded everyone in its currents, and that cast people on to some invisible shore when it was through with them. Or maybe as a thicker version of air and energy, blended into a soup that he could drink in and channel. What he hadn't pictured it as was a long, flat thread that wove everything together in a tight net. Revan had brought his mind to bear upon it, and shaved two strands from the thread that connected him and Jay to the tapestry and bound them tight within its weave. He'd expected a little pain, but this _loss_ mauled him deep in his mind and his heart. It felt worse than Darth Traya's invasion, because she had only made him bleed. She hadn't ripped him to shreds, and taken bits of him away with her the way Revan did. Jay seemed to take the loss with far more equanimity and calm than he could manage, though her strand felt twice as thick. _Jay, is this how it felt?_ But he remembered in shared memory how she'd almost died from the severing. _Will it hurt like this forever?_

_No, love. Soon the pain will fade, even if the memory stays with you. This isn't like losing the Force, it's just a temporary reduction._

_Revan said this was permanent._

_Permanent in the sense that you won't have full access to your potential, but you still have plenty of room to grow. As you reach toward your limits, this memory of pain will fade to nothing. You only feel pain because you see what you're capable of._

He reached for the connection, and saw that his thread was still thicker than hers, even if she still bore more of a connection to the Force than Revan or Bastila. _This is what I can do? Still? Even after Revan took part of it away?_

She looked toward him and smiled. _You doubted my words and Revan's?_

He watched as the threads entwined themselves around the boy's head, and then vanished into the boy's own connection to the tapestry. Rather than a mere thread, Wansel was connected by a heavy rope, mottled by moldy blackness. Where the new strands intertwined, they fought against the decay, and the rope gradually returned to its translucent grey. The vision faded to nothing as Revan released the connection. He heard a body thump against one of the bare walls, and he knew that whatever had been done, the old man suffered more than he had.

The boy smiled and trembled as he raised himself onto his elbows. "_Shekola_ weaves magic around us all."

"That she does," he said.


	40. Strength in Weakness

"Rest, _shekosa_, _shekola_," Kevel said.

He was more than happy to take that advice; his head still reeled like he'd slammed down too many hits of juma, and his vision seemed to come through wisps of fog. Jay forced herself to her feet and steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder.

"Aren't you going to _sit_? You look like death, Jay."

"Just need to check on something." Her voice quivered as she tottered away from him.

_Revan_. As if that schutta deserved to be looked after.

"Are you all right, Sy?" she asked.

He didn't bother to turn toward her or to watch Revan's reaction. Instead, he stared at the miracle he'd taken part in. Wansel's eyes had brightened, and he watched Jay's movements with more than just simple awareness. When they had first arrived, the boy had barely been able to pull a breath for all his mind's shrieking, but now the air had quieted and his breath came steady. Wansel flushed a deeper crimson as he met Atton's eyes and he smiled.

"Light… I had forgotten the oldest legends, _shekosa_." Maybe someday he'd understand what the kriff the kid was talking about.

"Fine, Jane," Revan said behind, and he felt Jay's steadying hand through the man's mind.

She reeled more than their blackened companion, but she lent him her shoulder anyway. He clenched his eyes shut as she settled Revan down beside him and his thumbs ached where he gripped them tight in his fists. Oh, _Revan_ was no weaker, even if he was exhausted, but his thoughts reeked of smug contentment. _On the road, and she pulls at me less._

"On the road? To what?" He didn't want to look at the man's vein-ridden, dust-grey foulness.

"Redemption. Sit down, Jane. You look awful. Weak."

She settled in beside him and leaned against him, her breath small gasps.

"Jay?" He slid his arms about her and felt the full brunt of her loss. It felt like half of her had gone missing, half of the strength Darth Traya had given her. "Damn, Jay… Did he have to take so much?"

She snuggled up and buried her face against his chest. "I… Really, this is nothing."

"Nothing? You lost five times what I did, and I'm whining like a little baby."

"Nothing. Nothing close to Dxun, even. Serocco was worse…" Her voice faded as he sensed the rest of her thought, _and nothing close to Malachor._

If that loss had been the worst of what was to come, the clenching in his gut would have gone away. Instead it boiled like he'd swallowed a cup of acid as he felt the echo of her loss, and the hint of memory. He knotted his fingers in her hair and curled himself around her. _Touch her again, Revan, and I'll…_ But he didn't know what he'd do, because the boy smiled at the two of them. He summoned the Force and looked at the room, at Jay's brilliant electricity, his own faint blue, and Revan's deep rose. _Did he really have to move away from the darkness by taking from her?_ The boy glowed almost as bright as Jay did. And Kevel's aura didn't make him flinch as it had when he'd first looked at her. _Yeah, he had to take, and maybe it was all worth it. I hope so._ He didn't feel Kevel's shriek either, and no echo of his own failure to protect Jay in her grief.

"Dxun," Revan said. "You fought yourself bloody for _nothing_. If this is easier than Dxun was for you…"

"Then what?" he asked.

"I had reasons," she said. He'd felt those reasons enough, and his heart contorted as he remembered her shared memory. And _confession_.

He felt Revan's focus narrow even as he forced his body further between the old man and a suddenly still Jay. Revan _probed_ her before he could protest, his mental bludgeon nowhere nearly as subtle as Darth Traya's had been. She flinched as he stared down at her, but said nothing as he felt the old man's probe slip under her surface thoughts. _Why the frak is she allowing this?_ She'd never buried her secrets deep, and he could read her reason as easily as if she'd spoken it out loud. _But he's blind to her, the way the old Masters were._

"You wanted to die." Revan's voice sounded as thin as a droid's.

"You could have just asked, you know," Jay said. "Yes, I wanted to die. Why does that surprise you, Sy? I felt _every single death_ as if it was my own. I saw my men, who risked their lives for all of us, blown apart by Mandalorian mines, ripped to bits by cannocks, our scouts shot down by AA guns. I've already shown that to you. But the Force wouldn't let me die, no matter how many blaster bolts I walked into, or how many beasts I allowed to chew through my robes."

"That was stupid, Jane. The very height of idiocy."

"Maybe you would have felt the same way if you'd ever bothered to fight on the ground."

"You still hate me for it."

"No, Sy." He hated the trembling in her voice, even though she spoke the truth.

"_Shekola_ doesn't hate, _skreketh_," Wansel said.

"And the child can read you, Jane. Why is it…?"

"Ma, come here." The boy reached out a muscular arm. "You sit far across the room, and your mind is farther."

"I cannot." The words could barely even be called gasps, and the gasps turned to choking before she finished.

"Ma…"

"You are bright, my son, bright as _shekola_. I failed you."

Kevel huddled in the farthest corner, and collapsed in on herself. Even if the sharp howl that tinged every one of her thoughts had faded, her sobs cut at him just as much. _More echoes of Jay's pain… the pain I caused her._ Her thoughts even echoed of Jay's own endless burden of guilt for her "failures," and of his own. He sensed Jay's intentions before he caught her thought, and he kept his arm around her as she forced herself to her feet with reserves of strength he didn't share. _You're the only one who can do this, Jay. I can't teach her anything._ Instead, he sensed they both had a lesson for him. She leaned on him as they staggered to Kevel's side. The Sith hugged herself, her hair an ebony waterfall over her face. He sensed twin crimson rivers beneath, though her hair covered everything except the faint ridge of her nose.

"Kevel-oska," he said. "Meyaam, is there anything I can do?"

Jay didn't bother with words. She slumped to the ground beside the woman and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"Stay away," the woman said, but he didn't feel the will behind her words. "My failure…"

"Wansel will be fine, Kevel-oska. You saved your son."

"No, _shekola_. You gave of yourself to rectify my failure. You are perfect in light, and you…"

"Is that what you really think?" Jay's laughter took him aback. "You've never killed, never committed a near genocide. You've never ordered men to die with your words and your heart and your soul. You've never slain your master, as our fallen barbarians do. I've done all of that, and more. I've destroyed a _planet_. A _civilization_."

"I helped destroy my own flesh."

"And you found help for him. He's fine. I sense no deaths in your spirit or on your conscience."

"I _hate_."

"And that hate can destroy. But you can overcome it, just as you stopped the degradation of your son's spirit."

"I…"

"Feel the truth, Kevel-oska. All we can do is try to fix the mistakes we've made, and to fix the damage we've done to ourselves and the galaxy. I'm not _perfect_. I have a war's worth of regrets, a planet's and a fleet's worth of pain that I lived with every day for a decade. I destroyed more than you have to preserve something that came close to falling anyway. I helped to make Sy's attempted conquest of the Republic a reality, and helped to bring the near-collapse of the same thing I tried to save. I walk in the light now because I've done my damnedest to serve the galaxy and the Force, not because I'm a saint or _perfect_. Because I want to fix what I screwed up, and because I want to do better."

"I hurt him…"

"And I hurt Jay. But she's forgiven me more than once, and helped me back. Listen to her, meyaam, because she's made her own journey back from failure."

He felt Revan's net around them again, entangling them and tying them to each other. He felt the woman's gentle touch on his mind, and on Jay's at the same time. _'Mancy, the kind of 'mancy Revan learned…_ She reached out through the connection and stroked both minds, to coax the memories out, so different from Revan's violations. Jay didn't flinch back from her memory of Malachor, or of Serocco, and her Ma's death in the Force. He helped the Sith find his own memories of each of the Jedi he'd killed, of _her_, of his own endless regret, of his fall, of the way he'd _raped_ Jay. He felt Kevel's revelation as his own. In it, he sensed the lesson coming, and he felt the same kind of turning Jay had sensed more than once.

"Wansel loves you, Kevel-oska," Jay said.

"_Shekola_, the Jedi and our legends both agree on lies."

"I don't know about lies, exactly, but…"

"I don't deserve his love."

"I don't deserve Jay's love," he said. "Eventually, you just get used to the fact that you have it anyway. Maybe it doesn't matter what you deserve."

"We are taught that love weakens, and that it destroys. There is no strength in love."

"And your people love anyway, Kevel-oska, as mine do, and as the Jedi do."

"You never forsook your ties, _shekola_, even when your dogma would tell you otherwise, and you burn bright for it. Hate almost destroyed my son… Can it save… save me?"

"If you let it," Jay said. "But you have to accept it, and let it strengthen you the way you once let hate feed your spirit."

"I… I fear, _shekola_. I remember when my husband loved, but he twists me. My son is too weak…"

"Weak is the last thing he is, meyaam. Didn't you see his potential? How large his connection is to the Force? Revan and Jay are the strongest Force-users I've ever seen, but he's easily as powerful as both of them combined."

"How did he surrender, then, _shekosa_?"

"Don't ask me. I'm not the authority on all this Force stuff."

"He didn't surrender," Jay said. "He fell ill _because_ he's so strong, but hasn't had a chance to learn how to control his reaction to the corruption in the Force here. He's stronger than Master Vandar was, stronger than me, stronger than Sy… Stronger than all of us in this room, together."

"Then his father spoke lies."

Jay shook her head. "Kevel-oska, I don't know. I do know that you have to protect him, and to use your love for him to bring yourself back. Let your ties to him save you, and to save him also."

"I… What do I do?"

"You have choices. Leave your husband and take your son with you. Forgive your husband and try to bring him back from his madness. Stay here and protect your son, strengthen each other, but let your husband stew in his madness…"

"I can't leave. Pervon would track us down and make us pay. But if we stay, I feel myself falling deeper. Pervon is unchangeable, unmoving. He is a mountain in a windstorm, and his power… I submitted, as I must."

Jay squeezed her tighter, and the woman patted her leg. Much as he'd thought he'd loved his Jedi before, he was taken aback by the sudden need to hug her, to hold her, to merge with her. He muttered a short curse under his breath to the Force that took locked her in another's grasp when he needed her. Instead, he contented himself as much as he could in stroking the back of her neck. He ignored Bastila's endless muttering of, "Weak, weak," as he felt the Sith gather strength in Jay's trembling arms. Revan had gathered himself into some alien form of meditation, communing with a part of the Force Atton tried to forget as he sought solace in the dance of Jay's hair on the back of his hand. And Wansel touched all of their minds, and he sensed the boy had discovered something he wouldn't even share with Jay.

"Go to him, Kevel-oska," Jay said, when the woman's breathing finally steadied. "Take strength in his love."

"For so long as I can," the woman said.

"Hunh?"

"I will accompany you both on your journeys," Wansel said. "_Shekola_ needs me."

"No," Jay said. "I'm not letting you throw your life away for nothing. If what you've seen is true, your people will need you here."

_What the frak?_

"Later, love," Jay said. "Kevel-oska, for so long as we're here, I'll help Wansel with a little Jedi 'mancy to help him keep his balance."

"I… I thank you, _shekola_, and you as well, _shekosa_. Life will guide us as it wills."

So what the hell was the lesson he was supposed to learn? He hadn't figured it out yet. He already knew love saved, because it had saved him three times so far. He knew submission to superior power was pure idiocy just by watching Bastila, and knowing more of Kevel's predicament. _The predicament of all Sith women. Force, has there ever been a more screwed-up culture?_ He stared at Jay as she let go of Kevel, and marveled at her again. She'd talked him back from enough ledges, brought him back from the worst corruption he'd ever experienced. Hell, she'd even convinced Canderous to begin talking to her Da and the Senate. But he'd never felt her steadiness in the face of her worst memories, and he'd never… Force, he was an idiot! He'd shared his own memory of his own will, and hadn't flinched either. He brought _her_ face up in his mind, and the memory of his first taste of the Force. All of their faces.

_Nothing. Why isn't this bugging me anymore?_

Jay grinned and squeezed him with as much strength as she could muster. _You've finally forgiven yourself, fool._


	41. Secret

"Are you ever going to tell me what Wansel showed you?" He'd curled up with her at the farthest edge of the bed away from _that thing_.

"Of course," she said.

Eventually Jay was going to have to cough up what was wrong, but he guessed it was going to be a damned long wait. He'd already waited a week, and he wasn't any happier for it. She chafed under Revan's presence as much as he did, if not more so, and he wondered how long it would be before she finally let all of her frustrations go. The damned schutta—he loved the sound of that, especially when he imagined it spoken in her breathy voice—kept them company everywhere, from Wansel's lessons with Jay to their room at night. Sometimes he wondered if Revan would follow them into the tub or the fresher.

"Really, Jay? Because it's been a week now." He narrowed his eyes at the meditating figure across the room.

"Love, it's important you know. But I can't when…" Her glare joined his. "He's close. All the damned time, and I can't have him know yet. Not before he remembers…"

"You mean why we're all here?" He was just as sick of the frelling whispering as he was of the schutta himself.

A nod.

"I don't think that's going to happen, Jay. Not for a long time. If ever."

She squeezed his hand and he felt her mental sigh. _I haven't been able to enjoy her for a solid week, and what's worse is he's the better for it. He looks seventy instead of seventy years in the grave._

"Out, Sy!" she said finally.

"Again, Jane?"

"Bath time!" he said. "Unless you want to join us. Jay tells me my massage skills are improving."

He heard something gurgle in the back of Revan's throat, and he only hoped it was last night's dinner on its way up for a second visit. The old man was on his feet faster than his eyes could register, and out the door almost as fast.

"Go down a floor, Sy!" Jay called after.

"Down a floor? Why?"

The words were barely out before she shoved the door shut with a quick flex in the Force, and pushed him down onto the mattress. As fast as the door slammed, she straddled him. She found his tanksuit's zipper the moment he figured out what was going on, and her lips demanded his surrender as they worked their way up his bared chest to his neck. Not that he could do much figuring as the tickle worked its way down to a _very_ stiff part of him that warmed itself in the crack between her thighs.

"Oh."

She sat up and glared at him. "Really? That's all you have to say? 'Oh?'"

"Force, Jay…" Not that he could manage any words.

"I wanted to at least hear, 'Oooooohhhhh.'"

"You're going to have to give me a reason first."

"Since when did you need a reason?"

"You're a little… overdressed."

He loved the deep sapphire of the robe she'd found in the markets, and the way it picked up her eyes, but not then, and not over the tight black jumpsuit and beige underblouse she'd taken to wearing to sleep lately.

"Are you going to just lie there, or are you going to help me take it off?"

The robe fell open as he untied her sash in a smooth motion, but she had him too pinned down to help her get rid of that damned shirt. He slipped his hands beneath and grinned as a pair of jutting spires met his fingertips. By the feel, she should have been the one moaning. He caught one between his thumb and forefinger and gave its fabric covering a gentle roll as his other hand tweaked the second. It grew in his grasp as she gasped. The shirt flew off fast and shot across the room as if it was propelled by a hyperdrive. She attacked him, sill dangerously overclothed in that ridiculous jumpsuit. He found his arms around her, his body rising to meet the warmth of her as she clashed tongues with him, tickled him, teased him until he was hotter than a plasma grenade. He clutched at her round lower cheeks and tried to pull her to him. She rode him without riding him, and invaded him without allowing his invasion. Her breath came hard in his ear as she buried her lips beneath his chin and set to work at driving him crazy all over again. He choked down the moan that threatened to escape just to torment her the same way she drove him to the edge and kept him there. Waiting.

He plucked at the jumpsuit's fabric. "Off."

"Off?" But she grinned as she sat up. "Fine, off. You seem like you're ready anyway."

"You're not?"

She unzipped the damned thing and wiggled it off her shoulders. It slipped off and puddled around her knees and his waist, a puddle of tar. If it hadn't been for the hungry look in her eyes, he'd have thought her the finest of carvings that adorned the Republic Senate walls. Still, it was hard to pay attention to the tar when a pair of pert… He grabbed her, pulled her down to him and let his mind blend with hers. He'd come to predict the flow of her desire, stronger than a river current, and as ceaseless as the waves of an ocean, cresting and ebbing just enough to disguise the relentless progress of her tide. Something else lingered behind the waves, something she tried to drown in her waves. It ate at her and took the edge off her usually ardent response to his lips. Its traces lurked beneath her thoughts and tainted the sea with tendrils of blackness. She _feared_.

He knew then what had eroded her composure in the face of Revan's invasion. The _secret_, whatever it was.

"Jay..."

"Not now."

She clutched at the back of his neck as she set to work on his lips in that dogged, determined way of hers. As always, he surrendered to it, and to himself, her ocean. He stopped biting back the endless stream of moans, only to hear her breath fetch up short. She withdrew as fast as she'd attacked him, leaving him bereft of everything but the wash of her desire over his mind. She slipped off the oil slick that coated her legs as he tangled himself in his tanksuit; she'd always been the fluid undresser, while he almost hurt himself in his haste to shed everything. That he had no choice but to stare at her didn't exactly help things. She forced an unconvincing smile as she slid his damned underwear down his stubborn legs.

"Jay, if you…" The blackness had spread within her, and he could see its greasy presence spilling rainbows into her waves.

"Shut up and get humping!"

She slipped onto him before she'd finished speaking, and her sopping heat had him complying faster than her orders. Force, she felt amazing, and week away made him appreciate her throbbing and pulsing all the more. She slammed against him with the same kind of desperation, her face wrinkled and crimson with her efforts. He lost himself in the feelings that threatened to drown him, and as she squeaked her way to her first crash, he felt the oiliness of her disquiet vanish in a blinding flash of pure light.

He grabbed her hips and guided her to a softer rhythm, one that he hoped would keep him from losing his control. Instead, as her tremors eased, her control faded to nothing. He didn't mean to find himself free-wheeling through her mind without anything to catch him. He drowned in the darkness, a place where a woman screamed from what had been torn away from her. She wailed as life itself had vanished, the wound worse than the wracking agony that turned her screaming razor sharp. She didn't see or feel, and she tried to force herself deep into a trance that eluded her. She yelled for everything else that had been stolen from her: her love, gone, her heart shredded by betrayal. _Malachor_? But this was different than her shared recollection had been. He felt _his_ absence. As he struggled to pry himself away, she twitched on top of him.

_Her secret_. He felt himself go limp and she stopped her mad slamming.

"Can't you? Force!" She glared at him.

"Jay, I… I felt it…" And just as suddenly as her thoughts had slipped, his eyes betrayed him in a blur. "Your secret, I…"

He drew her to him and gave in to the same sobs that shook her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I only wanted to feel you as we…"

She buried her head against his chest, but even as he remained outside her mind and her thoughts, he felt her ache as his and the contortions in her chest squeezed him just as much as his own.

"I betray you? Jay, I…"

"Not you."

"Then, who? And what? Why am I gone? I'd never leave you, not unless you sent me away."

He knew even before she spoke, her lips searing his chest.

"I… Bastila? Sy? I'm not sure. And I send you away."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to…"

She said nothing, just let her chest heave against his, her heart slamming.

"You send me away. Why?"

She gasped against him, and as much as he could tell when he pondered the "vision," or whatever it was, he felt no answers. Nothing in the blackness, no echo of thought that might tell him when or why. He wondered what else the Sith kid might have seen, but she just muttered, "That's all."

"Jay, you don't have to suffer alone. I'm here for as long as you'll let me stay with you."

"I don't want… Force, I don't understand what that 'vision' was supposed to tell me. And Wansel doesn't either."

"It's not even a vision. Aren't you supposed to _see_ things?"

She looked up finally and met his eyes. _Crimson, the kriffing color of everything in this damned sector of space._ But she still managed a smile, even though her agony echoed through him in a perverse reflection of his own. _How much time do I have left before I leave her even more broken than she was at Malachor?_

"Kreia told me that everyone feels the Force in their own way. My premonitions are visions, yours are those 'bad feelings,' and I think Wansel gets flashes of emotion."

"Hunh. I'll take visions over a gut-wrenching any day."

She snickered just a little, just enough that the tight bands her pain wove around his chest lessened so he could draw a full breath.

"The Emperor," he said, with his own sudden certainty. "This is when we face him, isn't it?"

"I… Yes, I think so."

"Then we just don't. We stay here and let Revan fester."

"You think that ever stopped visions from coming true in the past? The Force will lead us there one way or another."

"Yeah, but it doesn't have to lead us there immediately, does it? You say you need Revan to remember before you tell him what the hell this is. Well, we wait. As long as we can. Years, if we have to. Wars of belief are slow, right?"

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe."

He let his finger wander over her lip and couldn't help but smile when she kissed it.

"I love you, Jay. Always. No matter what happens, even if the Force is being a murglak all over again."

"I know. You know I love you, don't you?"

"Maybe you'd better prove it to me."


	42. Easy

_Damned if I'm thinking about that now._

Not that his own stupid admonitions stopped him. He'd tried not to cling to her as they made their way to yet another one of Wansel's training sessions. _Damn that kid! Why'd he have to share that with her?_ He clutched at her, unwilling to let her have even the spare inch she needed to walk normally.

_It bothers you_. She'd splashed him as he moped in the tub.

_Doesn't it bug you at all? Force, Jay! I find out you ship me off somewhere before you lose the Force all over again, and I'm supposed to be happy about it?_

Of course, it bugged her. Of course, she worried. _But I'm damned if I'm going to let it ruin the time we have left,_ she'd said. He wished he could be just as blasé. Or resigned. Or unflappable, or whatever the equivalent Jedi emotion was.

She staggered with him, but she didn't complain. Instead, she clung to him with the same ferocity, her head glued to his chest, and her fingers entwined in his holster-belt. He hated that they both buried their thoughts under veils of idiocy. She let Republic hyperspace routes scroll through her mind, no matter how little she understood them, and intertwined engine sequencers for a little variety. But never pazaak. And the way his own mind reeled, pazaak was far too complicated. Instead, he counted the brushing their footfalls made in the ankle-high grasses as they made their way through a freshly mowed field. Squish-one, squish-two, squelch-squelch. Revan's footfalls confused his count, much as he tried to slow himself down to match their pace.

"You seem distracted," the wasted man said. Yes, the grey had receded a lot, but the prominent blackened veins still made his stomach churn. "Both you and Jane."

"It's been too long," Jay said. "Thanks to a certain _someone_ sharing our room."

"Pfft. Such things are mere distractions."

"Like you'd know. You know what? Why don't you go have a little fun with your twisted apprentice, and maybe you'd get it a little better."

"You're more than strong enough to face her, Sy."

"You're hiding something. I _feel_ it, even with all that garbage running through your mind. Both of you."

"Just a few good memories. You know, the kind you could enjoy with that _thing_, if you had the guts."

"Never mind." He hadn't expected Revan to give up so quickly, but whatever bond Jay had forged on him must have silenced him.

_Or maybe he doesn't want to know._ That thought sent as many shivers down his spine as the sight of the black-cloaked Pervon looming by the side door of Wansel's mound-home. _And what the hell does he want?_ The twisted Sith had remained surprisingly silent about Jay's training once he realized Wansel had only grown stronger after their intervention. _Your methods are perverse, but you bring my son power. _He guessed that was everything that mattered to the kind of man whose corruption seemed determined to escape his body and pollute the air around him. Even from ten hobbled paces away, Pervon bowled him over. Jay released her grip and sent him staggering as he tried to cope with the loss of her warmth, though the bond soothed him as ever.

She bowed deep in front of the man, as Kevel had once bowed to him. "Salu-ya, eseer."

"Esh-salu-ta, Jedi."

_Jedi, not "shekola."_ He shouldn't have expected respect from this Sith, but he'd gotten far too used to Jay's status on Hrax to feel anything but a lurch in his gut when the title was left off.

"Salu-ya, Al-hem Pervon," he said. "Anything we can do for you, or did your kid beg off today's lesson?"

"Your apprentice speaks out of turn, Jedi."

"My _husband_," Jay said, her voice prickling. "There are no apprentices here."

"The lesser in power serve, Jedi, even if you would turn this world to your weakened ways."

"Is there a point to this?" Revan asked. "If your child is too weak to train, we won't waste our time."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "Wansel is fine. Eseer, what do you wish of me?"

"I would observe your techniques."

"Why? What do you want?" he asked.

"I would know where my son learns weakened ideals, even as he grows in strength. I would see the ways our invading ancestors abandoned."

"Your curiosity is always welcome," Jay said.

Revan muttered something in language he couldn't even recognize, let alone understand. The tone, however, spoke much louder than the words themselves. Maybe it was Republic space and the rarity of true factions of dark Jedi, but he never could have guessed that dark could despise dark so readily, Nihilus, Darth Traya and Sion notwithstanding. Power struggles had been common within Revan's armies, but were quashed with the quick and judicious application of force. And the Force. Here, Sith clashed openly and often, but not always to the death. The weak followed, but resigned themselves to their rank. Nor did they devour themselves from within, killing each other over the kind of idiot conflicts that had been prevalent even under Revan's control. When Wansel would finally grow up, even the corrupted Pervon would step aside for his heir.

"Your servant's hatred is obvious, Jedi."

"Servant?" Revan said. "I am no more servant than you are Emperor, failure. Your son's sickness speaks to your weakness, fool."

Jay closed her eyes and shook her head. "You wished to observe, eseer. Perhaps one observes best when one aims awareness toward the intended goal."

_She's learning Sith-speak too well._

A tiny, and almost unfitting smile quivered at the corners of the Sith's crude, heavy lips. "Your power may be slight, but you have some use, Jedi."

_Force, she's just formed a bond with this thing!_ She returned the man's grudging smile with a wide grin of her own.

Though Pervon's emanations tainted the room and made Kevel cringe as she watched, little else changed during the session. He, Jay and Revan worked together with the kid—the surprisingly agile kid— to teach him the rudiments of Niman. He still couldn't get his mind around Revan's sudden shift to cooperation; during the first sessions the schutta had been all over Jay for "teaching without discipline," and "passing on sloppy forms." Ataru had never been her specialty.

"Niman is more meditation than a combat technique," she said as she gently lifted the boy's elbow. "Let the Force cover and protect you from blows, and use your saber to guide it into place."

"If it is more meditation, then why learn with a weapon, Jainia?" Wansel powered his practice saber down.

"Many things are meditation, child," Revan said. "Combat can enkindle the power within you as much as a trance can."

Jay shot him a look. "Niman is centering, finding your core when passions or the very corruption in the Force could steer you away from yourself and your best instincts. Think of it as another tool to keep you in touch with the proper use of your power. The form has saved me a few times, and not just my skin."

He remembered the _Hawk_ and the droids Revan had sicced on them. The surge of her hatred as she fought to save the man who had tried to destroy her more than once. The wrenching as she bit back the urge to let loose.

Wansel's emerald eyes probed his and the boy nodded. "I see, _shekosa_. This is yet another way to pass the time when levitating a chair for hours bores me."

"Never been fond of that myself, kid."

Jay grinned. "Me either."

"If I have to spend one more moment with these undisciplined…" Revan muttered.

"Pappe, you still watch?"

"The Jedi may be weak, but she seems effective. I take my leave…"

"Wait! I sense you question _shekola_, and I would have her answers as well."

She shrugged.

"You wield more power than _skreketh_ does, and you have tied his destiny to your own. If you claimed your tie, you could bend him to your will."

"She can do nothing of the sort," Revan said, but his protest rang hollow.

"Would destiny and life itself not be better served if you broke him to your will? And would your war not be won easily?"

Jay grinned. "Oh, come on, Wansel! I know you're better than this!"

"The mind sees possibility that life only whispers," the boy said, oblique as ever. Then his lips twitched. "I know the answer, Jainia, but I don't have the words to make Pappe understand."

"'Easy' is the lure of the dark side," she said. "Things would be so much simpler if you could pull a string here or take a shortcut there. But the shortcuts you take end up unraveling the fabric, creating endless troubles, even as you've destroyed yourself and your spirit in the bargain."

"That's no answer, Jane," Revan said. "Just blind Jedi dogma."

"If you wish specifics, this bond I share with Sy could be strengthened, and as much as I feel him, I could tailor my actions to appeal to him. I could kill or slay as he'd want me to deep in his spirit, and he'd be powerless to resist. He'd be yanked along whatever course I chose, and he might even think he did it willingly. But in changing my actions to strengthen the tie, I'd change myself, compromise myself, and maybe even endanger the galaxy. A fall is never 'easy,' even though sliding into darkness might be."

"The longer course is the simpler course, Jainia?"

"I think so. Plus, it usually _feels_ better, as I know you know."

The cloaked lump of perversion shifted where he knelt. "The weakling has done much to you, Jedi, and you still give him free rein. Your kind has always been fast to the saber, even when your failed teachings should show you otherwise. You baffle me, enemy. You grant power as you usurp will; you teach, even as you would have us betray all that we are."

"You're your own enemy," he said. "You did this all to yourselves. Just be grateful Jay's here to help save you from your mistakes."

"You allow your apprentice too much leeway, Jedi."

"You really didn't understand anything I said, did you?" Jay swallowed, and her shoulders seemed to clench in on themselves.

"And so the Jedi longs to strike me down."

"I assure you, if I meant a threat, you'd have felt it by now. I could have turned your droids on you long ago, and you'd have gone down without me even having to break a sweat."

"A Jedi would do nothing else."

"Well, it's good there aren't any Jedi here, isn't it?" Jay's grimace slowly melted into wryness.

The Sith leered at her from beneath his hood. "If you seek to weave confusion and sow doubt, you will need to draw your net tighter."

"The Jedi Order you hate cast me out, and the Force, and Sy and I ended up destroying the rest of it. Your old enemy is dead and gone, eseer, erased from history and the galaxy."

"You created new enemies," Pervon said. "From the ashes of old evil, new was born."

"People who don't even _know_ you exist. People who have done _nothing_ to warrant being called 'enemy.'"

The Sith stared at her and merely crooked an eyebrow.

"Pappe, you call Jainia enemy even after she severed part of her life for mine."

"You know, seeing enemies where there aren't any is blindness." His own blindness, when Jay had confronted him on Nar Shaddaa years ago.

"Tell me, _skreketh_, why you tolerate this Jedi, when you've absorbed much of our wisdom."

_I'm so not looking forward to this._

Revan's half-smile didn't seem anywhere near as menacing as it had been just a few days before. "A wise question, Sith. I travel with her because she's reliable. You could almost even say 'loyal,' if you ignore her betrayal after Malachor."

She twitched, but no other reaction betrayed her thoughts.

"I've botched a lot in this war, but she risked herself to keep us on track. She's the only one I can trust out here."

"I wasn't the one to betray the Republic," she said.

"Not a servant, though you should be."

"'Should' is a relative term, Sith. She's stronger in the Force, but not in strategy. There is more than one kind of power."

"You show little enough gratitude toward this Jedi, if that is the case."

He never thought he'd find himself agreeing with a Sith ideologue. Whatever Jay had done to Revan, though, had the old man cracking a wry grimace.

"Perhaps, Sith. Perhaps."

"No perhaps about it at all," he muttered.

Not that he could finish that thought, with the sudden deafening scream he felt echoing even through his barrier. Jay went almost as ashen as Revan, and the boy gripped his ears. _That's not gonna help, kid._

"Force," Jay said. "What…?"

"That little fool! What has she done?" Revan seemed the only one who understood what the current meant.

"What did she do, Sy?"

"I feel… She's summoned something. She… her thoughts say we've taken too long. Oh, little fool, why?"

Jay made it first outside in a blur of Force-enhanced speed, and out in the open fields, he felt more than just a loud scream. It had become a storm, a whirling maelstrom of raw anguish that twisted his gut.

Why, oh why, couldn't things ever be easy?


	43. Ruin

Even love didn't make him feel better as they ran with an army of droids clanking at their backs. The screams came at him in an endless haze that crept deep down into his bones. More than a haze, they were a gas that slowed him even as the Force sped him along. He followed Jay and focused on the blur of her feet, the waves as her feet churned through the endless tempa grass. Ordinarily, he might have felt the vibrations of cooling engines as they disturbed the net of life around him before he spotted a ship, but in the flat, yellow fields, the black curves of the ship assaulted him before he could feel the faintest disturbance. Scale on Hrax was virtually impossible to judge, but he guessed the ship at five times the size of a standard Sith freighter.

_Maybe the droids aren't so bad after all._

So far as he could tell, the ship had touched down right in the middle of the Necromancer's main slave quarters. _A declaration of war, to stamp into the dissidents' heads that insubordination won't be tolerated._ He didn't even want to begin to imagine what the remains of the tiny brown hut-hummocks looked like underneath the ship's landing struts. _Must be squashed worse than insects._

His sabers hummed in his grasp and lent him a stability that the ship wanted to rip away. Jay lent him the rest, and he lost his thoughts in the contrasting vibrations as her sabers let out their own low-pitched whine. He caught twin flashes of viridian at the edge of his blurred vision, and beside them, the deep green acid that dripped from Pervon's wicked blade.

"_Jedi," the Sith had said._

"_Eseer, there's no time!"_

"_I have something to offer you. A reward."_

_Jay had whirled on him. "Your people bleed, eseer. This is no time…"_

"_You said you could turn my droids on me. I would offer them as payment if you can turn them to your will."_

"_You mean to fight the invaders?" Revan had asked. "Jane…"_

_She had nodded. "It might mean more death, but…"_

"Jane!" Revan's speed-distorted speech cut through his meditation.

"What, Sy?"

"The _Ebon Hawk_."

"Sith's blood!" She fetched up short and Revan overshot her. She shifted her second saber to her main hand and pulled out her comlink. "T3."

_Dreet deet dee. _The beeping sounded even more incoherent over the channel.

"Keep an eye on the _Hawk_, would you? Have HK keep up a patrol on the perimeter."

_Dee deet._

"If anything gets too close, shoot. No exceptions."

_Dwoo_.

"If anyone boards the _Hawk_, purge the nav computers, disable HK, and erase your memory."

A long chorus of beeps.

"I know, T3. Thanks for everything. We'll be keeping comm silence."

"You speak words of friendship to a droid," Pervon said, "while we die."

"No exceptions, Jay?"

"The Republic," she said, and didn't need to say more.

_Trillions of lives at stake. Trillions_. A few innocents were nothing compared to the heart of the Republic itself. He swallowed, not that she seemed to have an easy time handling her own order. She squeezed both eyes shut and dropped her hands to her sides. Her sabers drooped downward in surrender. _War._ He remembered the complete silence when the Mandalorians had nuked the Stereb cities, once the inaudible shriek had ceased and had no longer bounced around in his gut. She straightened and gave him an ironic smile before she gathered the Force around her and took off.

_General_. He'd never understood until then just how many of these horrid decisions she'd been forced to make. A few innocents here and there for the very heart and soul of all she loved and had sworn to defend. Over and over on countless worlds to fight an evil that seemed like nothing compared to _this_ threat. He followed and Revan slipped in beside him. He didn't give a damn about that Pervon, but the Sith followed anyway, his presence tinged with some small measure of respect. _Yeah, I bet you get off on watching innocents die._

The closer the approach, the larger the specks grew around the base of the black monstrosity. Even closer, he could almost reconcile two sets of dots that moved in response to the other. He couldn't determine which faction was friend and which was foe. He felt a faint buzzing, a prickling of energy from one of the collections, though he was still too far off to see the tiny blinking light pellets that could only be blaster fire.

_Firing on innocents. Monsters!_ That was worse than the carnage the Mandalorians had unleashed on the Republic. None on Hrax carried such weapons, and the few slaver droids had likely been blown to bits under the barrage. No matter how fast the Force helped him move, it wasn't fast enough. No one could be in a place where speeders and swoop bikes were only figments of the imagination, a _Republic_ figment. The scream built and smashed the last of his reserves to rubble. More deaths, more echoes of a people so sensitive to the Force that the Republic's former Jedi knights had been like children just awakening to the life around them. These echoes, like the traces in Revan's warding chamber, would never die.

_What the hell have we been doing all this time?_ Because, when it came down to it, the impact of all the help, all the justice, all the aid they'd given to these people had just been smashed by a piece of rare technology. _Focus, think of Niman and Jay's lessons. You're not helping anything!_ Even pazaak was beyond him when he tried to turn his mind inward. The hum of his sabers rang as a dissonant counterpoint to the prickling of blaster fire, and the building shrieks in the Force threatened to drown out both notes in an unceasing crescendo. _Look at your sabers._ The motion of the blades, the flicker of silver light as the blades moved up and down in time with his footfalls, added a beat to the symphony of war and drove him forward.

Only luck saved him, lost as he'd become in the silver light that cast second visions behind his lids and the whisper of blurred grass. Jay snarled beside him, and a flash of viridian nearly sheared him off at the knees. He stopped dead in the midst of a curl of smoke and only the glinting of the thousands of tiny shards embedded in his pants and boots hinted that something mechanical had once shared that space. _A droid? What the frak?_

"Stop, Sy!" Jay called after the black blur as it passed them by. "Careful!"

"What?" He didn't have the time to speak rest of the words as something metallic slithered ahead in the grass.

Jay's sabers flashed and the thing vanished in a similar cloud.

"Poison," she said. "One of the damned things got me."

She did look decidedly greener, the color of her blades. She hadn't bothered to heal herself, but instead teetered toward one of the droids in the leading line. He reached in to summon the Force but she shook her head. _Fine, Jay_. He powered off a saber and fumbled in his belt pouch for a hypospray. Anti-venom, and hopefully the right kind to stave off Sith poison. So far, their only use of the stuff had been back in Republic space before Jay had taught him how to heal. He shoved the device to her arm as she braced herself against the droid's chest thing.

"Just keep those things off me. I have an idea."

Revan, of course, had other ideas, and not even Jay's cry of "Save it!" stopped the Force from building inside the old man. And what came out knocked him hard on his back. The droids hissed and sputtered as he rolled onto his stomach. The _damned schutta_ held him down as the wave's crushing continued, when any other wave would have long since dissipated. Metal scraped and pinged as the first shards bit deep into his neck. He moved his arms an inch and then another as the welling droplets on the back of his neck itched, and a hail of pinpricks penetrated what limited protection his hair provided. _Bzzzt!_ He wrenched one arm up and covered his ear as the buzzing of shorting circuits even drowned out the screams in the Force. The pressure on his back and his gut eased and he forced himself to his knees.

"Jay!"

She'd curled herself into a ball, arms over her face, but the blast of droid metal had still dinged the back of her hands. Where the shards had embedded themselves there and in what little wrist the robes didn't cover, droplets of crimson welled and dripped to the bloodied earth, red as its Sith masters. She trembled, but what he felt from her was not the fear most would guess as she struggled to right herself, a mirror of the trembling grasses around them that popped upright in a slow-moving tide ever outward. No, it wasn't fear, though what it was should have made him tremble every bit as much.

"Sy!" the voice rang out, harsh and defiant.

"Jane," the old man said, still fully upright in the center of the wreckage from the maelstrom he'd unleashed. "We're safe."

"Safe, you murglak? You call _this_ safe?" The voice hit the highest registers he'd ever heard from her. "You say we're safe when you just destroyed every last one of our reinforcements?"

"Jane."

"Well, murglak?"

"You would do well to control your servant, Jedi," the Sith said, "before he further ruins me or my people."

The Sith had clearly understood nothing of what Jay had tried to explain, not that Jedi dogma or Jedi control mattered in a smoldering…

"Move! Now!" A _bad feeling_ slammed harder into his gut than the first deafening screams of Hrax's dead.

_Jay_ moved, on her feet, and enhanced before he'd even barked out the second word. Revan moved a little slower. He forced himself to his feet, and noticed the Sith still gawped like an idiot at the wreckage, his heavy jaw flapping. He clothed himself in the Force. _Frak that frelling idiot!_ He snaked an arm around Pervon's thick middle and could only drag him with the Force's significant aid. He _felt_ the spark, rather than seeing it, when he cleared the ruin of their mechanical army, and the twisting in his gut eased as a sudden strong wind rippled the endless ocean of grass. He sensed the rising flames just as they left the slag piles far behind, rather than serving them as a first meal, scorched by their ravening maws. Only slowly did he catch up with Jay and Revan and their slackened jaws.

"_Atton_!" Jay rushed forward as he dropped the astonished Sith.

He couldn't turn as she snatched him up in her arms and squeezed. But what was likely a wall of roaring orange behind them cast its light over Jay and lit her brighter than a primitive Stereb golden idol. _You're safe, love, you're safe, Force, you're safe, safe,_ she chanted in his ear. Why wouldn't he be? Beneath her concern, and through their connection, he felt her panic even if she tried to conceal every last vestige of feeling with half-repeated engine sequencers. _Too close._

"Jay," he said as the wind blew a faint wave of heat in their direction. "Jay…"

"What do we do now?" she whispered. "We can't… Oh, Force!"

"Your apprentice saved my life, Jedi," the Sith said, his voice little more than a breath.

Jay dropped her arms finally, and he gawped on his own at the wall of flame that the wind directed _away_ from them. _The Force…_

"…is watching out for us somehow," she said.

The blinding orange and yellow blotted out the sea of grass behind them, away from the ship. Black billows that would have otherwise blotted out the sky bent backward in the wind's unending assault, and the sun shone defiantly bright in competition with the brilliance that ate the last of what had been their slim hope for victory. Yet another thing "that damned schutta" had destroyed.

"You!" He whirled on Revan. "Why, Revan? We…"

"The threat is over," the decayed man said.

Jay shook her head. _There's no point in arguing,_ she whispered in his mind. _It doesn't matter now. What matters is…_

"…saving as many as we can. I know, Jay, but…"

"Your apprentice saved my life, Jedi," the Sith said again.

"Of course he did," she said. "You expected something else?"

"Thousands of years of war and legends would tell us otherwise."

"Well, your legends are stupid," he said. "Look at who almost killed us, and look at who's tried to save your red, hairy ass! The Jedi aren't your enemies—your own believers and your own kin are."

He glared at Revan who shrugged. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Wait, Sy! Just wait! I was going to rig a droid to send out electromagnetic pulses. Three minutes. But you couldn't wait that long, could you? Force, now…"

"Now we can't fight them like brutes," he said. The slightest kernel of an idea had occurred to him. Faint, but maybe…

Jay slipped an arm around his waist and looked up at him, one brow raised.

"Stealth, Jay. This war was supposed to be stealth, and secrecy is still our best weapon."

"What are you saying?" But he sensed she shared a little of the same thought.

_Sabotage, Jay, just like Revan sabotaged us._ If she didn't agree, they would be ruined just as surely as the melted slag behind them.


	44. It Tightens

"Go," Jay said.

"Go. You're going to blunder off into an unknown, outnumbered thousands to two, and you want me to go." Revan's voice should have been angry, but instead it came out flatter than a protocol droid's.

"You're no good at cloaking yourself. You have other strengths, Sy, but sneaking and sabotage aren't among them."

Sometimes he wondered just how Revan had beaten the Mandalorians and smashed the Republic.

"Jane."

"Sy, stop her! You're not being yourself, even your jumbled, maddened, screwed-up self. Don't you feel the weaving in the Force? The way it wraps around you and weakens you? _I_ do."

"Battle Meditation? Is that what this is, Jay?" Now that she'd mentioned it, he felt it, drawing tight around his throat. A noose. No, worse than a noose. A wire, sharpened, slashing his flesh as it cut off his air. _Battle Meditation, may as well be, as stupid as we're all being._

She settled on the ground amidst the swaying blades. They lashed at her arms and her cheeks, an endless array of tiny whips, but she didn't grimace, didn't falter as the Sith glared murder down on her. She disturbed a few blades as she patted the ground beside her. _Sit here._ He joined the Sith in staring. _Sitting. What was the twisting doing to her mind?_

"Jedi, you dare meditate as we die?"

_Meditation. Some of Jay's magic? _That made as much sense as anything else out here.

"Eseer, go help your people!" she said. "Atton, we can't blend if…"

"…we don't listen. Yeah, I get it."

Pervon muttered dark curses as he joined her. He shifted until the grass cushioned him as much as the slapping stalks cooled his overheated cheeks. A stray droplet fell from his shock of hair and stung his eye. He hadn't noticed how much he panted until sitting made the air come easier. _I used to be better than this! Forget it. It's not the time, Rand._

"Destroyer of armies, he still lives, and we die. And the Jedi sits and meditates."

"Eseer, if you won't go help your people, go defend your wife and your son! Your property!"

"I assume the Jedi intends something."

"Look, Mr. Evil, we're trying to concentrate here. You ever heard of sneaking and sabotaging? You can't exactly do that on a ship full of Force Sensitives without a little preparation."

Pervon's leer vanished and his eyes narrowed, but not in a menacing way. Instead, a sense of _focus_ and the tickle of an alien presence caressed his mind. The Sith nodded. "As you did to my droids. May our enemies' life depart at our hands, Jedi."

"Something like that," Jay said. "May the Force be with you, eseer!"

The cloaked back retreated slowly until it flared out. The red scowl followed in all its hideous glory. "Jedi."

"Go, eseer."

"_That_ is what the Jedi intends? You will need more than the universe to aid you." Thick black brows knitted over twisted lips. Was that _admiration_ he sensed? "His power is beyond mine. Life allows me no such sight."

_Wansel_._ He knows._

"Life and its ties consume _skreketh_ and the black one blinds him. He will not see his destiny, though you sense it, Jedi."

_Revan gets yanked along into Jay's agony? The Force is a frelling schutta!_

Jay turned greyer than he had been at his darkest. "Force! I don't…"

_I don't either… Jay!_ Whatever he'd sensed as he'd settled beside her washed away in an overwhelming tide of pitch. He drowned beneath it as it clung to his limbs and seeped into every corner. He struggled to surface, but it solidified in his nostrils. A persistent tendril of white wended its way through the pitch and he shuddered. _And Revan… Force!_ Somehow, the thin ribbon burned him worse than the thickening in his lungs. _Do I really have to pity that murglak?_

The Sith nodded. "Jedi. Apprentice."

In a ripple of tar, the Sith was gone.

"Come, love," Jay said. "Whatever awaits us isn't what matters now."

He clenched his eyes shut and _squeezed_, and the tar oozed from every pore. He gripped his brows tight and forced his inhalations in time with hers. First, the gentle in and out, soft, and almost dizzying, then the slowing, as he forced the air to trickle from his lungs. It caught in his throat as he let his mind loose in listening. _His_ tar had merged with the rest of a thick soup that inundated him as he tried to discern the strands of feeling on the ship. _Triumph_, a thin band of gold, wended its way through the black screams and congealed them. He shuddered as a small thread of blue wrapped itself around him and his awareness. A familiar warmth caressed his mind and the word _love_ forced the screams away. _Follow, love. Feel their joy, and remember ours. Let the light in your heart blend with their darkness. Let it flow into you, and subsume you. Be their power._

He forced his lungs full of the charcoal reek that covered them as the winds died down, and let the taint merge with her blueness. Her _happiness_ as she drifted in the memory of their last night on Citadel Station. Their first night alone on the Hawk. The smoke lent just the right hint of darkness to turn the brilliant yellow of memory to that golden tinge. _Triumph. Be the destroyers. Remember._ The threads merged and _pulled_, rendering him captive. _She_ merged, her blue fading to pink, as she blended to nothing. He shrieked against her tie that sliced him deep. _No, not this again! Jay!_

He opened his eyes to her smile. _She_ was, even if her tie had dissolved and taken him with it.

"Run, love!" she said, and shimmered to nothing as the Force surrounded her.


End file.
